Predators: Modern Prey
by Dan Ingram
Summary: A plan is made, a trap is set and the tables are turned, as the prey tries to become the hunter. But things are not as they appear...
1. Chapter 1

Predators 2.0

Humanity's Edge

_Prologue _

_It was the best of times, it was the worst of times._

Isabelle, sniper for the Israeli Defense Force, casually wondered why anyone would carry 'The Tale of Two Cities' with them on a mission, as she carefully turned a worn and fragile page. This planet was the final resting place of God only knew how many soldiers, criminals and people of every violent profession in between, but she didn't think that there were too many of them were people who studied classical literature.

She knew of soldiers who carried personal mementos, journals, pocket bibles and even comic books on missions, but a classic piece of literature was a new one for the Sniper. She might have thought it odd, if her current situation strain credibility.

Little over three weeks ago, she, along with seven men, were abducted from earth and dropped onto this jungle planet by alien hunters who then proceeded to pick them off one by one.

Every person in the group was a dangerous, experienced and ruthless killer (something that nearly cost Isabelle her life), their foes were only three, but in the end and thanks in no small part to dumb luck, of the original eight, and she and another man, Royce, remained.

Of course, every soldier knew the difference between winning a battle, and winning the war. They were still stranded on a planet that was little more than a game preserve for an entire society of alien killers, which meant being out in the open was the same as having a gun pointed at your head and with a hole in her shoulder, Isabelle knew she was a liability.

Luckily, Royce refused to abandon her, and was smart enough to actually listen to her.

So rather than risking staying out in the open, the two of them doubled back to the home of another former prey of the aliens, a scavenger bastard by the name of Noland. Royce thought that would be the first place that the hunters looked for them, but Isabelle knew better. In Israel, terrorists would often double back to positions after being forced out, thinking that because the location had already been discovered once, they wouldn't be expected there a second time. It worked more than Isabelle was comfortable admitting (and it failed even more than she wanted to admit, too).

The duo stepped over Noland's smoldering remains, found a good corner in front of an excellent choke point to hunker down in, and waited.

Forty eight hours passed in silence before they felt comfortable moving again, and another week passed before they managed to find the courage to fully explore their new home. When they were done, Isabelle felt differently about Noland, the man who tried to kill them.

He wasn't an insane son of a bitch, driven mad by decades of isolation. He was a cowardly, selfish bastard, driven insane by decades of isolation, who'd rather hide than fight back. For the first time since she'd been adducted, Isabelle was actually thankful to the aliens who'd abducted them, for killing Noland.

If she knew then what she knew now, Isabelle would have killed him over a period of three days, at least, using sharpened twigs, and would have gleefully lost a part of her soul in the process.

They found some dozens of guns, hundreds of rounds of ammunition, enough to army a small cell, blades of almost every kind and a ridiculous amount of claymores and explosives. The weapons alone were a God send, but it didn't end there. After some more exploring, they found a bathroom, some type of fridge and even soft beds. Compared to some assignments, this hole in the ground could be a mansion.

Looking back, it had been so obvious. Noland had said his home had once been a drill. So of course they'd have had quarters for workers, technology for food storage and provisions for hygiene.

_That fucker locked us in the equivalent of an outdoor attic, and tried to asphyxiate us. Good riddance_, Isabelle thought.

But once she and Royce got settled in, the Israeli Sniper felt a shiver down her spine when she felt she first finally understood Noland. Life inside this little drill was comfortable, safe, secure while outside was nothing but aliens, monsters, sociopaths or all of the above. It wasn't hard to see why someone would be willing to stay here forever in the face of that, and for a moment, Isabelle thought she might do the same.

Luckily, Royce, while not a moral man, was at least a man of strong conviction.

"Don't get comfortable, we won't be staying long."

He meant it, and that helped Isabelle believe it. It helped that they came within inches of actually escaping. If Noland had helped them attack the alien's camp, the six of them actually taking the fight to them instead of fighting a running battle, then…

Every time Isabelle thought about it, she always had to stop before she become too angry, and did something stupid. The rage in her heart burned hotter than the wound to her shoulder, and thinking about Noland would just cause a snowball effect about everything that had happened since being dropped on this planet. Hunted for sport, foreign terrain, vastly superior firepower and weapons…

Royce though, wasn't one to dwell on the negatives. Within days of getting settled in, he began to tinker with Noland's helmet and cloaking devise. The joy they felt when Royce disappeared was like what it must have been for Cavemen discovering fire, pure delight at finally finding a multi-purpose tool that could both keep them alive and be used to hurt their enemies.

Royce immediately set out into the preserve, looking for the alien's other victims. Humans, aliens, Royce said he'd recruit anyone who'd make a strong ally and she didn't doubt it. On earth, Isabelle would have killed half her original group just on principle. Here, anyone who wasn't an enemy was automatically a friend.

But almost without fail, Royce would return empty handed. Sometimes he said he was too late, that all the humans were already killed. Other times he'd explain that the dogs got them first, or flat out said they weren't good enough.

After a while, Isabelle wondered if Royce wasn't just pretending to look for help, stringing her along before surrendering to life on this rock. All things considered, Royce was nice, but she sure as hell didn't want to play Eve to his Adam.

Just as that thought flew through her mind, Isabelle heard boot stomping on metal, and she slammed her book shut and grabbed her barrette.

The room had only one entrance, a heavy metal door with an improved metal bar serving as a lock, and a jury rigged landmine to serve as a doorbell for any potential intruders.

Three knocks, followed by ten seconds, and then two more.

Isabelle sighed. She knew the pattern by heart now, and grew sick of it the second time she heard it.

She got up, unraveled the string that would have detonated the landmine if the door was forced open, unlocked it and let Royce inside. The moment he was in, the door was again secured and armed.

"Sit rep?"

"Three to the dogs, one to an UAA and four to TMAs," Royce said like he was reading off sports stats.

Isabelle nodded. UAA meant 'Un-Aligned Alien'. The monsters who were hunting them had a slight preference for humans it seemed, but were by no means exclusive. It was hard not to get so wrapped up in their ordeal that they forgot there were other victims out there. Angry, deadly and with no means of communicating, there hadn't been one yet Royce felt comfortable approaching, but on this death planet, Isabelle felt it was at least important to remember they were victims too.

It was doubtlessly a cold comfort to them when their corpses hit the ground because Royce didn't or couldn't warn them about the hunters cloaked three meters away, or put them down himself because they were threatening him, but it was still something Isabelle clung to, something that still made her feel human.

"No one worth saving then?" Isabelle already knew the answer.

"They look like they came from the same unit, but things broke down when the dogs attacked," Royce stripped off the stolen armor, and gently set it down, "it took them ten minutes after that to notice their missing man. On earth, they might have been hot shit, but here they were barely a workout for those monsters."

"We can't get off this planet alone," Isabelle said without thinking.

Royce froze, and gave her a look that could melt ice, "You think I don't know that? I don't go outside for the weather, or for the who fucking knows what out there!"

"Sorry, I'm just…," Isabelle trailed off, "are they any better? Any new tactics?"

"They seem to pick off the leaders quicker," Royce said, "beyond that, they're still the same sadistic bastards that nearly killed us. They whittle the groups down one by one. Same technology as the ones we killed, and use the dogs too."

"But they're getting smarter," Isabelle hissed, "if we wait too long…"

"They're not pieces of software," Royce countered, "we killed three of them who'd been hunting for who knows how long, and we'll kill these too."

"For every one we killed, they killed two," Isabelle countered.

The statement hung in the air for a moment. As experienced soldiers, they knew the dangers in talking up the enemy. But at the same time, they also knew the dangers of ignoring the obvious, and the sheer power of the creatures was tough to ignore.

"They still leaving the weapons when they're done?" Isabelle asked, though she hated herself for thinking like a scavenger, like a vulture.

Like Noland.

"Yeah," Royce said without missing a beat, "I'll collect them in a day or two, when I'm sure they're not interested in more trophies."

"…we're never getting out of here," Isabelle rubbed her as she thought about living the rest of her life like this, hiding from invisible monsters, struggling to both survive and hold onto her sanity…

"We're getting home," Royce said with rock like certainty. He clenched his fist, then relaxed, "…soon as we find some soldiers who don't lose their nerve simply because they're on another planet, being hunted by invisible aliens for sport."

Isabelle gave Royce a look. If she didn't know any better, the Israeli Sniper might have thought she'd just heard Royce tell his first joke.

"Even if we do find a team," Isabelle warned, "we'll only have one shot at getting off this rock."

"Operators like us? One shot is all we need."

oooOOooo

Danny Moreno tried his best to relax as he stretched out in his small apartment. It wasn't an easy thing to do, as he knew violence was in his future, but he managed anyways, like always.

Standing at five foot seven and one hundred and sixty pounds, Danny at first glance didn't match the image most held in their mind of gang enforcer. But a closer look would reveal sculpted, well defined muscles. And an inspection of his jacket would reveal more throwing knives than should be possible to hide in a leather jacket, and just a glance at his scarred hands would tell the story of a hundred fights. His bare chest would show a network of hard earned tattoos, denoting his ability as an enforcer.

Danny was barely twenty five, but he was already a legend in MS13. They were his family, the reason why he made it to his teenage years in his Mexican hometown when his mom ODed and his father drowned himself in booze. When the cops were so crooked they walked with a limp, the only option for survival was to join a gang that slightly gave a damn about you, and that's just what Danny did.

In time, he took to violence like a duck to water. Though he was never proud of it, Danny recognized his own skill. Some people had a gift at singing, others had an eye for art. Danny could recognize the slight limp of a man trying to protect an injured leg, and was able to keep enough of his wits about him in a fight to attack open wounds.

And knowing it would be the only thing he'd ever be good at, Danny studied. He memorized the work ethos of Bruce Lee, studied medicine books about vulnerable points and when his friends were hurt in the fights for turf, Danny made mental notes of where wounds were the most fatal or crippling. The young man had never finished High School, and was by no means a sadist, but when it came to hurting someone, he had it down to a science and art.

And he knew that if any member of his former gang saw him again, they'd be on him like a dog on a bone.

In a way, Danny was actually relieved. He still loved his gang overall, despite what it had come to, and didn't want any rivals getting cred for his death. Something like this, it was better kept in the family.

Danny was half way through his stretches when he heard the chime of a bell (that he'd installed only last night), followed a string of profanity in Spanish and a stampede up the stairs.

It was time.

Danny threw on his gun holster, threw his modified leather jacket on and was just buckling his belt slash fanny pack by the time he was at his fire escape window.

A glance down told Danny what he already knew, that his 'boys' had the building surrounded. Several of them saw him stick his head out the window, and started firing.

The young Street Fighter sped up the fire escape like a cat after a mouse, bullets flying all around. Not a one struck him, there was too much metal and no good angle, but Danny still breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the roof.

As a matter of principle, he didn't like guns. They were too easy to misuse, gave false courage to cowards and did too much unintentional hurt. A bullet that cut down some punk ass dealer would keep on flying no matter what, even if a little kid got in the way.

Danny reached the roof, and sprinted towards the stairwell door. He leapt, grabbed hold of the top and pulled himself up in one fluid motion. He crouched down, placed his hands on the knives on his belt, and waited for company.

The wait wasn't long. Four young men and one old bastard, people Danny recognized instantly. Vega's crew, five bastards who should have been smothered in their cribs, and all of a sudden, any guilt over fighting family to survive disappeared. All his life he wanted an excuse to take this band of thugs out, and self preservation worked just as well as any other.

Danny reached down for his trench knives, said a silent prayer, and moved into action.

As a general rule, knives were Danny's weapons of choice. They never caused collateral, they were silent, never needed to be reloaded and most importantly, allowed you to feel your kill. Danny didn't like to kill, but would if the situation demanded it, and he wouldn't bulk from the responsibility. You always knew who you killed with a knife, it took real stupidity to kill accidently and they made you take responsibility. Not like a gun, that could throw death around and distanced you from the kill, from responsibility.

How knives ever got a reputation as a psycho's weapon, Danny simply couldn't fathom. They were the ultimate weapons in terms of reliability and function, and his trench knives were the perfect expression of Danny's passion for blades.

Two years ago, Danny had managed to save the life of a well connected arms dealer during a buy that went bad, mostly though blind luck and the fact that the people trying to hijack the deal thought that a five foot Hispanic kid from the projects wasn't a threat. The arms dealer was so grateful that he promised to give Danny any weapon he wanted, and on a lark, Danny described the perfect combat knife.

The dealer just smiled and nodded, and at the time Danny was sure the man thought he was loco.

Three weeks later, a pair was personally delivered to his home. They were five and a half inches long, double sided with edged hand guards and a slight hook at the end, common in survival knives, and a spiked pummel. Made of four forty surgical steel and scalpel sharp, they never rusted and would never dull if used properly. As hand to hand combat weapons went, Danny couldn't think of anything deadlier.

He held the knife in his left hand in a reverse grip, the one in his right in a traditional hold, and leapt down off the stairwell behind the five men.

He punched the closest man in the back of the head before he could even turn around, flesh and hair tearing, and sent him crashing into his friend. The second man at the rear was quick enough to level his gun at Danny, but the young gang enforcer swung the blade in his left hand, sinking it deep into the man's wrist. With a twist, the gun was released and the man pulled his arm free and scampered away.

A third man had enough presence to try to back up, but Danny was too swift for him. He kicked the kid in the stomach, and as he fell backwards, his flailing arms smacked into the two remaining members of the gang, throwing them off balance.

Danny spun the knife in his left hand into a traditional position, and then lunged forward, and sank his knives into their livers with an experienced hand. He then proceeded to yank the knives out, and then plunged both into the neck of the middle man.

From start to finish it had been less than two minutes, but in that time Danny had disabled an experienced, five man MS-13 hit squad.

"You have ten minutes to get to a hospital," Danny was certain that a stab wound to the liver would prove fatal, but he wasn't going to tell them that. The young gang banger heard the click of a hammer, and swallowed.

"You son of a bitch, you think you can just walk away?"

Danny turned around, and saw Vega, the man he'd punched in the back of the head, holding left hand to the wound, and a gun in his right.

Mentally, Danny kicked himself for not taking the time to identify Vega's location before taking his crew apart. At fifty years old, Vega was an old man by anyone's definition, and no one who survived that long on the wrong side of the law did it by being a push-over.

Of course, Vegas was a mean son of a bitch too, which Danny saw as a weakness. If Danny had been in the other man's position, he would have just pulled the trigger and then maybe talked smack to the cooling corpse. But some people, bastards to the core, wanted to see their victims twist before they ended it.

"Oh God, please…" Danny held his fingers out straight in his right hand, and his trench knife slid out of his grip until he caught by the end spike. Danny began to shake, his body blocking Vega's ability to see his second knife, "Vega, don't…"

"Yeah, beg you little…"

Danny sprang into action. Side stepping to his right as he spun around and threw his knife with all his strength. Vega managed to squeeze a shot off, but he was shooting where his target was, and was too startled by Danny's sudden change in demeanor and the fact that he'd thrown his knife to aim properly.

The knife hit Vega's throat perfectly, neatly slicing through flesh and cartilage. Vega foolishly dropped his gun to clutch at the knife, but once again Danny was too fast for him. The Hispanic Youth stabbed Vega in the stomach with his second knife and grabbed the first by the handle before Vega could get a grip, and tore it free sideways, sending blood flying.

"I told you bastards, you keep pushing me around, and I'll push back," Danny once again used the pants leg of his enemy to clean his weapon, "I love the organization, but I told you, there are some things I won't do. That don't make me a traitor."

Danny knew he was talking to a corpse, but it still felt good to vent, especially given the fact that he wasn't hopeful about his survival past the next ten minutes. Vegas' crew were just the tip of a very long, and very sharp stick. And while Danny thought knives were the superior weapon morally, he knew they didn't hold a candle to the effectiveness of a gun.

Danny was still debating his options when he heard the crunch of gravel, and he spun around, braced for a fight.

But when he scanned the rooftop, all he saw were the bodies he'd made, and they weren't moving. Danny heard the tell-tale crunches again, and his heart began pounding. He didn't think he was facing an invisible enemy, but he was terrified that just before the fight of his life, he might be losing his mind and his nerves.

His mind, looking for any explanation, noticed foot like grooves on the roof gravel…fast approaching.

"Holy shi…"

Danny's world exploded in a haze of pain.

The once Gang Enforcer slash hitman felt as if he was drifting away from his body. He heard an animalistic growl, and saw a hulking, transparent form standing over him.

To Danny, it felt like he was dreaming, but when he awoke it would be to a nightmare.

And he would never see his native Mexico again.

oooOOooo

_Iraq, Green Zone _

"I don't have to tell you guys this, but this mission is one of the most important missions we've run yet. We only have the man's first name, Ayhum, and where he's going to be in the next hour. We were lucky to get this intercept, but given the limited time frame, exploiting it may cause us some bad luck."

"Hey, fortune favors the bold," said Peter Garret, twelve year veteran of Special Forces.

"Yeah, but no plan survives contact with the enemy," Sam, commanding officer, deadpanned, "but you guys are good at adapting. Now here's what we know…"

Sixteen Delta Force Commandos, stood at attention in a way most people would have mistaken for casual slouching. The man delivering the briefing, known to the Commandos only as 'Sam' (it was the name of an old friend who worked military, so it worked as well as any other) wasn't fooled or offended. He'd worked with enough teams to know the professionals from the slackers, and as it so happened, had specifically asked for this team during his assignment in Iraq.

As a freelance spy (freelance in the sense that he changed agency as needed. CIA, FBI, Sam worked with all and was a member of none. Early on, his superiors recognized that it wouldn't be wise to limit his abilities to one agency), Sam valued intelligence and restraint above all else. And while those traits were more common in Special Forces than any civilian would recognize, only rarely did they get any emphasize by team leaders.

Sam's handpicked Commandos were different. They bragged more about captures, drilled breaching tactics more than combat and at least half a dozen members won Purple Heart awards because they placed themselves in more danger simply to capture their enemies alive.

"Well, the enemy won't survive contact with us, so it balances out," boasted Cory, the second in command.

Of course, that wasn't to say that there wasn't an overflow of testosterone.

"Lets hope not," Sam commented dryly, "Ayhum is a major player in the Iraq insurgence. He's a legacy who worked under Saddam's and has been the most slippery man in the country. We'll only get one shot at this, and we need to make it count."

oooOOooo

Brent Jackson flexed his fingers, trying to get the tension out. Though he always volunteered to man the Browning 50 cal machine gun, it was a far cry to say that he was comfortable in it. Not a patrol went by that he didn't imagine himself being picked off by a sniper, or a hail of bullets. But growing up the son of a carpenter, he had an eye for detail. At age seven he safely navigated the casual dangers of a construction project, at age fourteen, he was writing Punch Lists and now at age thirty six, he examined the road ahead of them for IEDs, concealed gunmen and ideal ambush points. It was nerve wracking, but important and something he was good at.

To his credit, Brent didn't jump when he heard an explosion a half block behind him, even though he instinctively knew that it was an IED that his team had just narrowly avoided.

Brent smirked, knowing that his team had just avoided a potentially crippling attack not because of luck, but because of their spy friend 'Sam'. The guy was a regular MacGyver, able to whip up a radio jammer with just a few odd parts from the shop, and using it to block the cell phone signals most insurgents used to detonate their homemade explosives.

The Commando looked back where the IED had exploded, casually wondering if he'd predicted its placement, when he saw something peculiar. Standing in the dust and smoke kicked up by the explosion, seemed to be a glass figure…that moved quicker than anything its size should.

Brent's eyes went wide as he swung the gun turret around. In the span of a single second, a Special Forces camp fire story became reality. It was as if Satan himself had just stepped out of hell in front of the soldier. Too terrified to even lose bowel control, he depressed the trigger while screaming, "Guatemala! Guatemala!"

Bullets tore up the ground, but the illusive figure managed to stay ahead of them just long enough to let loose a bolt of energy. The surge of energy ripped through Jackson's chest like it was tin-foil, bone and muscle turned to ash in less time than it took to tell.

Down below, Sam and the Delta Force Commandos gave each other a baffled look as they heard Jackson firing, but before anyone could make a move, something slammed into the side of the armored vehicle and it pitched over on its side. Sam barely had time to protect his face as he was pitched into the side of the heavily armored transport. His vision went white, and as he struggled to collect his wits, Sam heard the Delta Force Commandos scramble out, followed by an animalistic growl that didn't sound like it belonged to any animal on earth, automatic fire and terrified screaming. Then, only thirty seconds after it started, the screaming stopped.

Sam felt his stomach drop as he listened to the silence. The men he was working with were some of the finest soldiers he'd ever met, and the hardened spy simply couldn't believe that they were killed so easily. In the back of his mind, he thought that maybe his senses were playing tricks on him, or maybe they'd established a stand-off.

So the Spy leveled his M4 Carbine at the rear hatch with both hands, and stalked towards the exit. He noted the smell of gun powder, burned flesh, fresh urine and electricity that saturated the air, and remembered Jackson's last words.

Guatemala.

But there had to be another explanation. Sam read the un-redacted file himself, and thought it was little more than creative bullshit to cover up…something. Maybe those teams went native, or were coked out of their mind, and got picked off by very creative rebels, or the soldiers did the mutilations themselves before turning on one another, and aliens were thought up as a distraction.

Sam stepped outside, and saw his men scattered across the ground, the dirt beneath them soaked with blood.

As a spy, Sam learned early on how to compartmentalize information. So while his heart was pounding in fear, his mind made note of the holes burned through the soldier's torsos, how the fabric around the half dozen severed limbs was too cleanly cut, and how for over a dozen men, the ground didn't have nearly enough shells.

Compartmentalizing information was a vital skill for a spy, but that didn't mean that the information always added up. Nothing about what he saw indicated that the men were killed by insurgents, it was over too fast, the weapons and methodology didn't match, but it was the only logical conclusion.

_That, or the devil is actually real_, Sam thought to himself. He looked around, and everything he saw felt wrong. His men were dead in the street, their armored carrier overturned, but there wasn't a single insurgent be seen. If this was an ambush, just where the hell were they? And what on earth could make this street a ghost town?

Sam heard a growl that didn't belong to any animal on earth, and found his answer only seconds before his vision was overwhelmed in a searing white light.

Next: We meet all the players, as they struggle to figure out where they are, and what to do with the information.


	2. Chapter 2

Predators 2.0

Act One

Looking back, the first thing Calvin Quinn noticed when he awoke was the smell of the grass and air, and how it smelled so wonderful, so vibrant, so pure, and yet _so wrong_.

The fifty two year old man looked around, utterly baffled by his circumstances and saw that he was in the center of a parachute, though he would never sky dive in his life, in the middle of a forest or jungle that certainly wasn't the same one he went to bed in last night, strapped into a strange harness that didn't feel like anything he'd ever worn.

With a grunt, the aged Geography/History/Biology teacher gripped center of the harness, a strange, metal, pentagon devise and tipped it upwards so he could get a good look at it. An avid outdoorsman, Calvin thought he might at least recognize the make or model, but he couldn't recall seeing anything like it in his life, though it made a certain amount of sense. Calvin could think of any time he'd heard of someone using electronics in sky diving.

Slowly, painfully, Calvin picked himself up, letting the harness just slide off. Now standing, and sorer than he ever remembered being, the Aged Teacher examined both himself and his surroundings. It was pretty obvious to him that he wasn't in the United States. The trees were wrong, and the humidity, the sounds…

Calvin resisted panicking with the simple logic that it wouldn't do him any good. Like he lectured his students, panicking simply wasted time that could be better used to find an answer. Of course, when Calvin said that, he was talking about trying to pass a pop quiz, not trying to figure out why they were suddenly in the middle of some unknown jungle. But the principles were the same.

Calvin took a deep, calming breath, and then took stock. He still had his compound bow, all forty steel tipped hunting arrows, his hunting knife, flint, axe and even 'board of education'. It was puzzling to say the least. Calvin didn't know yet know why, but it was painfully obvious that he'd been kidnapped. But why would anyone leave a kidnapping victim with weapons?

Calvin looked all around, craning his head upwards to see if he recognized any stars, when he heard the snap of a twig behind him, and spun around.

The woods were thick, but when Calvin squinted he was positive he saw some movement, and swallowed hard when he noticed some very concealing bushes began rustling.

"Hello?" Calvin called out. He knew it might be dangerous, but then, if someone wanted him dead, why didn't they take his weapons?

"Is anyone there?"

"Over here," Calvin stiffened as he felt a gun barrel pressing against his back. He raised his hands instinctively, and gulped when he saw a very large man, six feet if he was an inch, with shoulders as broad as a line backer. As if that weren't enough, the man looked like he was carrying more firepower than an entire street gang. He was wearing Kevlar armor, but had two handguns on both of his hips, Berettas, and a Serbu Super short strapped to his left leg (though Calvin didn't recognize the models). As if that weren't enough, the man was carrying an AA-12, automatic shotgun and had it leveled at Calvin's chest.

All those weapons were enough to make a terrifying image of any man, but the person who had him at gun point apparently felt that wasn't enough. He wore a mouth less black and white skull mask, his eyes the only think Calvin could see.

"Keep calm and things will be fine," said the giant in front of Calvin. He looked the Teacher up and down, and then nodded to his partner, "stand down, Jesse. He's good."

"You sure, Billy?" asked the man who had his gun stabbing into Calvin's back.

"His weapons are all civilian spec, he doesn't have any military tats and he called out to see who was there," Billy replied evenly, "he's either a civilian, or the best actor in the world. I doubt he's with whoever grabbed us and pushed us out of a plane."

Billy grabbed his mask and pulled it off, revealing a bald, dark skinned man Calvin guessed to be in his mid thirties. Though he was intimidating at first, an easy smile came across the man's face as he pointed his weapon away and politely extended an open hand, that Calvin took after a moment.

"Name's Billy Weather. Sorry about any concern we might have caused sir," Billy said sincerely, "my brother and I are…emergency crisis interventionists. We have to be careful. Jesse, quit standing behind him and introduce yourself properly."

Jesse huffed in annoyance, and walked around in front of Calvin. Like his partner, Jesse was well armed, but he was thinner, lankier but his body was no less toned. Calvin studied the pair for a moment, their voices, posture, jaw line and eye-color. It was a guess, but he was fairly certain that these two were brothers, as well as partners.

"Sorry about that, pops," Jesse shrugged almost playfully, "but when you wake up in the middle of nowhere fully armed and in freefall, well, it don't pay to be trusting."

Calvin nodded with a forgiving smile, "I understand. My name is Calvin Quinn. I don't suppose you have any idea why we're here, or where here is, do you?"

Billy shook his head, "Not a one. Honestly, I'm still trying to get over the idea that someone kidnapped us, and still left us our guns. I'll tell you right now, I intend to make them regret it."

"Not to mention we're embarrassed that they did it so easy," Jesse admitted with a sheepish shrug, "last thing I remember is us cowboying up for joint raid on a Mexican drug cartel's safehouse. Next, bright light and well…"

"Here we are," Calvin glanced around, examining the forest, "the last thing I remember was falling asleep in my tent. I'd been camping for a week or two…"

"I'm guessing you're not a soldier, sir?" Billy asked.

"That hasn't been an honor of mine, no," Calvin answered. He squatted down, took his knife, and began cutting away at the cords that held the parachute to the harness, "however, I did very well for myself in the last Marine Core marathon."

"Umm, mind telling me what you're doing?" Jesse asked.

"I suspect we may be here a while," Calvin cut through the first rope, and moved onto the next, "and I don't know about you, but I'd like something I could make into a shelter."

"He's got a point," Billy remarked to Jesse, "stay here and watch his back and our stuff. I'll go get our 'chutes, and we can roll out."

"Stuff?" Calvin looked at Billy with a raised eye brow.

"We like to have plenty of options before a battle," Billy explained as he walked into the brush for a moment. A moment later, he emerged carrying a heavy leather bag that made metallic sounds as it shook, "and whoever let us keep our ammo bag won't live to regret it."

It took about ten minutes, but the three of them managed to gather up the parachutes that had been used to drop them in this mystery jungle, and were ready for their next move. Unfortunately, none of them had any idea what that might be.

Finally, Calvin made a decision, "Which direction did you two come from?"

Billy pointed north, "Jesse and I landed maybe twenty meters away from each other. We just kept heading in the same direction, and you're the first person we came across."

"Well, it's not much of a plan," Calvin admitted, "but I like it better than standing around waiting for whoever dropped us into this mess to show up."

"Same here," Billy said, "Jesse, you take point, Calvin, sir, you'll be the center and I'll bring up the rear."

"Into the breach…" Calvin chuckled.

The trio walked in silence, an unspoken agreement between them that casual conversation might be dangerous, for twenty or so yards. The boredom and monotony was nothing to the Weathers brothers, and Calvin was starting to fight his instincts about remaining silent until Jesse held up a hand, and signaled for them to stop.

He pressed one finger to his lips, and then pointed towards a clearing some twenty meters ahead. There was a fair amount of vines, tree and other debris in the way, but Calvin could clearly make out people speaking, chatting with one another. Calvin looked at the Brothers, silently asking for a plan.

"How do we want to do this?" Billy asked.

"Could be the people who dropped us here," Jesse suggested, "I mean, we gotta run into them sumabitches sometime."

"They could be like us," Calvin suggested, "just innocent people dropped in the middle of the jungle with no clue what's happening."

"That could be true, but they could be like us," Billy nodded to his brother, "we're not criminals, but we're not saints. These people could be dangerous, even if they're not responsible for our situation."

"I'll approach them, then," Calvin proposed, "no disrespect intended, but I am the least intimidating person here. If they're in the same boat as us, they might be a little confused and trigger happy."

"None taken, but you're also a civilian," Billy countered, "I'd rather not have you out there if I can avoid it."

"I'm not so sure you can," Calvin stated, "both of you are pretty well armed. I don't mind saying, you gave me a good fright."

"Lets get into position, and then send him out," Jesse suggested, "they get hostile, we take 'em while they're focused on Pops."

"Just give me a chance to talk to them first," Calvin insisted, "I'm positive they're not responsible for us being here."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because whoever they are, I don't think they're going to be this easy to find."

oooOOooo

The Aged Teacher took his quiver off, laid it gently on the ground, took a deep breath and then strolled out into the clearing.

"Hello there!"

He found two men, and one woman. Both men were bald, one African American, the other white and dressed remarkably alike. Mentally, Calvin was a little relieved that his own bald dome wouldn't stand out much in this crowd.

The African American was dressed in jeans, combat boots, white shirt and a green flack jacket and black sunglasses. Hanging under his shoulder was a type of shotgun that Calvin had never seen before, but looked like a nasty piece of work.

The other man was dressed in a sleeveless leather jacket, white shirt, Confederacy headband, a thick blond beard, worn jeans and an honest to God bandolier around his waist loaded with bullets, and a large revolver. On top of that, hanging from one shoulder like an oversized military sash, was a chain with a weight on one end about the size of a soda can. Calvin felt a shiver travel down his spine when he saw all the dents on the weight.

The final person, a woman who looked to be in her early thirties, reminded Calvin of that Tomb Raider character his students were so fond of years back. Short pants, tank top and dual holsters under each arm. Calvin could tell she had a mixed heritage that included some Asian ancestry, but not much else.

All three of them spotted him moments before he came into view, but they remained calm, collected, completely nonchalant after giving him only a moment's glance. They didn't say it with their mouths, but their relaxed attitude essentially said 'You're not a threat to me'. Calvin had seen that expression before on kids who thought they were tougher than they actually were.

Seeing it on High Schoolers, most of whom had never even touched a gun, was fairly amusing. But seeing it on heavily armed men (and one woman) did give Calvin pause. But he remembered that he had allies of his own, kept his hands visible at his side, and walked forward.

"Who the fucking hell are you?" asked the woman.

"My name's Calvin. And I suspect that, like you, I somehow came to be in this jungle with no memory how I got here," Calvin replied calmly.

"Pretty much, old man. The name's Big Rig," said the man with the chain.

"Pleasure to meet you," Calvin nodded to the two remaining mysteries, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your names."

The two looked at one another for a moment, silently weighing the idea of giving their names. Calvin wondered what they did that made them that cautious about handing out even that small information. But they quickly decided it didn't matter, and it was the man who spoke first.

"Name's North," he said, "and the charming lady next to me is Megumi, or Meg for short."

"Screw you, North, not funny," Megumi said, "you know I hate being called Meg. And don't either of you pricks start."

"As you wish, Megumi," Calvin said politely, "now, since we all know one another, I'd like to introduce you to my friends. I have to warn you though, they're…"

"Well armed?" Big Rig finished, "Yeah, I'm beginning to think that's a theme here."

"Billy! Jesse! Come out, please!" Calvin shouted.

The newly met trio all took an involuntary step backwards as the Brothers stepped out of the forest as if they were stepping out of thin air. The trio couldn't miss the weapons, fluid movement or expert concealment if they tried.

"Whoa, some damn ninjas ya got there!" Big Rig observed.

"Are we going to have any problems, sir?" Billy looked at Big Rig pointedly. His AA-12 wasn't aimed at the man, but both know it could be in only a matter of seconds.

"You drop us here?"

"No sir."

Big Rig shrugged, "Then I don't see no reason for a problem, hoss. What'd make you think that?"

"The thunderbolt tattoo on your left shoulder," Billy said matter of factly, "I recognize it as an SS Nazi thunderbolt from World War Two. That you have such a tattoo makes my African American brain wonder."

"Oh damn, sorry about that," Big Rig actually blushed as Billy's statement drew eyes towards the tattoo, "it ain't nothin'. Did some time in Federal lock-up, and with my tan, the Brotherhood was the only ones willing to take me. Don't mean nothing more than an extra fifteen percent price increase when dealing with them knuckle heads, promise."

"Alright then," Billy relaxed his stance, though Jesse just smirked.

"Damn…" North whistled, "glad you guys are on our side. You know your shit."

"If you ever saw our paychecks, you'd see how good," Jesse smirked. He then turned to Megumi, "Hey baby, looks like this isn't a stag party I was afraid it might be."

"Yeah, whatever," Megumi shook her head, "you guys aren't that smooth, because I bet you're just as confused as us. I will stay that you're slicker than that little gang banger a couple of yards off, but don't let it go to your heads. Both of them."

Danny winced when he heard that. With his knives loose in their sheathes, he stepped out from behind the tree he'd been hiding behind, in full view of everyone.

"Hey, jungle's not my thing, lady" Danny said defensively, "besides, thought you guys might know something."

"Armed, dangerous and in a jungle in the middle of nowhere," Big Rig summarized, "unless you got something to add, you're on the same page as us now."

"Actually, I do," Danny walked towards the group, now confident that they weren't a threat or responsible for him being here, "I woke up in freefall. I saw some more parachutes."

Everyone looked at one another for a moment, before Calvin finally said, "Well then young man, lead on."

oooOOooo

Ayhum Hussein gave a slight tug at the ropes around his wrists. He was sitting on the ground, hands bound behind his back and around a tree, staring down a gun barrel in that hands of a man who had to be American intelligence. Between that and waking up in an unrecognizable jungle, Ayhum was beginning to think that this was the beginning of a very long day.

"So, Ayhum, funny meeting a leader of an Iraqi resistance cell out here," the man started. His tone was casual, and while he pointed away the small caliber gun he held in one hand, Ayhum wasn't fooled. He'd worked intelligence before. After a capture, the first rule was to establish dominance. The second would be to establish a rapport with the subject, "can I call you Ayhum? My name's Nate."

"Well, 'Nate'," Ayhum wasn't fooled by the false name, "you're the one with the gun. You can call me anything you want, apparently."

"Sorry, poor form," To Ayhum's surprise, Nate holstered the weapon.

In one way, it was a welcome change. No one liked to have a gun waved in their face, after all. In Ayhum's experience, they were the first tool of thugs and idiots who had little respect for how easily they could destroy a life.

But in another way, it was worrying. An inexperienced interrogator would see the gun as a means of leverage, of control over their subject. It was a handy weapon if your goal was crude torture, and torture was never an effective method of extracting information.

So that meant the man standing before him was smart, experienced, not just a lucky thug with experience in the jungle. Ayhum felt less confident about his chances for escape than he did a moment before.

"Again, why are you here, and how did you kidnap me?"

Ayhum considered the question for a moment. He knew that none of this was his doing, but telling 'Nate' that wasn't in his best interests. What he had to do was play along, and wait for an opening.

"We were going to give you to an Iranian contact," Ayhum replied after a moment, "in exchange for arms and money. As you might imagine, it would have been quite a feather in their cap. But they demanded that the exchange take place where it wouldn't be connected back to them."

"Your Oxford is showing," Nate remarked casually, "and you just happened to leave me armed? Try again, only this time, lets get closer to the truth, okay?"

Ayhum sighed. He hadn't expected Nate to swallow the lie, but he did hope that the man would reveal at least a little about what was going on. The Iraqi simply couldn't believe that this was anything more than an elaborate American ruse, though to what end he couldn't fathom. All he knew what that he couldn't give them what they wanted, because when…if he did, they'd have no more use for him and at best, throw him down a deep, dark hole.

But all Nate revealed was that he was an experienced interrogator. Establish dominance, rapport yet use questions and replies that betray no information. Experienced, intelligent, Ayhum wasn't into self deception. He could see the odds against his survival slowly trickling down in his own head.

Nate and Ayhum heard the cracking of branches, and rustling of vegetation that indicated someone was coming.

Nate picked up the M4 Carbine that he'd set down when he began interrogating Ayhum, and aimed it in the direction of the approach. Nate, battling his common sense, stood several feet in front of Ayhum, unwilling to abandon his prisoner his prisoner for a better tactical position.

Ayhum turned his head, confident that he'd see American troops coming to take him away. Whatever 'Nate's' plan had been, it was obviously over.

What neither Nate nor Ayhum expected to see four mercenaries, one gangbanger, one High School teacher and one biker to stroll towards them as casually as one might walk down the street.

Nate, looking down the sites of his carbine, actually did a double take as they stopped. But his body, working faster than his brain, lowered the weapon.

"Umm, hello," Calvin said, with an uneasy smile. He kept a smile on his face, but the Aged Teacher wasn't quite sure how to proceed, "can we have a moment of your time?"

"Little busy," Nate deadpanned.

Jesse and Billy gave Calvin an incredulous look.

"What the man means to say is that we have a unique situation here," Billy stated, "and we need all hands on deck, so to speak. And that includes your prisoner."

"Not happening," Nate said flatly.

"Do we really need these two?" Megumi mused aloud, "he's got a stick up his ass, and the other's unarmed. Just leave these two lovebirds, and lets find the fuckers who dropped us here."

"He took and hid my weapons," Ayhum had without thinking. This entire situation was rocketing past baffling and approaching insanity, but he hoped that by appearing useful, he might find a lifeboat, "I'm very experienced in combat."

"'Fraid that don't make all of us comfortable," Jesse replied.

"Look, why don't we make this simple?" Big Rig unholstered his revolver, and strolled towards Ayhum, and with practiced ease, pointed it at the man, "no more terrorist, more weapons for everyone else, win win."

"Not happening," Nate pointed his weapon at Big Rig, "you pull that trigger, and you follow him. I'm not going to execute a man."

"Well, you will have to free him," Calvin said, "because we have things more important than him to deal with."

North crooked his head, and began sniffing the air, "Anyone smell that? Smells like…"

A splash of flame landed only feet away from the group, and from there, primitive, animal instincts took over as everyone sought cover. Ayhum struggled to move before Nate came to his rescue, and slashed through the rope that kept him bound to the tree. With one hand on Ayhum's shoulder and another on his knife, the two took cover behind some fallen logs.

"Hold your fire, hold your fire!" Calvin shouted, to both sides. To his surprise, everyone complied, if only because the people on his side wanted a clear line of fire before they started shooting. Not so deep down, they were coming to realize that ammunition was precious.

"Where am I?" A medium height Asian man stepped forward, army fatigues and a flame throw strapped to his back, "where have you taken me? Why am I here?"

"Oh, I so got this," Jesse smirked as he took aim with his MK 12 Special Purpose rifle.

"Wait wait wait!" Calvin insisted, "there's no need for bloodshed."

"We don't need some trigger happy bastard," Megumi hissed. The distance between them and the flaming bastard wasn't so great that she wasn't confident that she could score a headshot. The way the man was acting, it was as if he'd never been in a real fight.

"We need everyone," Calvin replied with such conviction, Megumi decided to give him a chance.

"Excuse me sir?" Calvin shouted over the cackling of the flames.

"Zeya, my name is Zeya, speak it with respect!" shouted the flaming thrower wielding soldier.

"Okay, Zeya, first, let me assure you that we're just as confused as you," Calvin stated, "second, let me assure that we mean you no harm. You have my word on that."

"And why should I trust the word of a stranger?" Zeya demanded.

"Because otherwise, I'd ask the woman standing behind you to pull the trigger and end you. With all due respect."

Zeya froze when he felt the barrel of an AK-47 pressed to his head.

"Douse the flame and keep your hands where I can see them."

Zeya quickly obeyed.

Everyone came out from behind whatever cover they found, and looked at the new arrival. She was dark skinned, with a red shirt, green vest and heavy boots, with a pack slung over one shoulder and a machete sheathed on one hip.

"People just keep coming out of the damn woodwork," Big Rig grumbled.

"She's the last," Danny remarked, "number of parachutes add up."

"My name is Agwang," remarked the young woman, weapon still trained on Zeya, "can I trust everyone to be grateful for my help?"

"Oh, you know it baby," Jesse winked, and Billy didn't hesitate to elbow him.

"Your accent, sounds African," North remarked.

"I grew up in Sierre Leone," Agwang replied quickly.

"Well, this is just great, we got two assholes to deal with," remarked Big Rig, "I still say we plug them and just get on getting out of here."

Ayhum tensed despite himself. Nate was standing behind him, several feet away with a gun trained on his back. The Iraqi warrior wasn't afraid of death, but he still wanted to die an old man in his bed.

"No, I don't think that's wise. As a matter of fact, I think we need to give our Iraqi friend back his weapons."

"Not happening," Nate said firmly.

Calvin rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Mr. Zeya, can we trust you not to burn us to death for the next several minutes while I explain why we all need to work together?"

The man nodded.

"Okay. Young lady, thank you for your assistance, but you can lower your weapon," Calvin said politely. He then motioned for everyone to follow him.

"Man, this guy makes me feel like I'm back in High School," Jesse said.

"I wish I had teachers like him in school," replied Danny, "might have tried to stick with it, you know?"

"So what are you going to do, Nate?" Ayhum asked his captor. He wasn't about to try to make a move until he was sure he had to, not with at least four other armed Americans armed and probably willing to dispatch him if he twitched wrong. Nate knew him, and could save him just as easily as he could damn him, "we both know this situation can't continue. Will you shoot me?"

"If you give me a tactical reason to," Nate said casually, "lets hear the old man out, and go from there."

"Now," Calvin stopped when he reached a clearing, "I think it's pretty obvious to everyone that we are in trouble, and far from home. But I don't think anyone here has an idea of just how much trouble we're in, or how far. And I can say with great confidence, that our situation isn't the fault of anyone on earth."

"What the hell is this fool talking about?" Megumi sneered, hands on her hip.

"How can you say that?" Danny asked.

Calvin smiled, and pulled an arrow from his quiver. With a smile, he pointed it straight up, "Because I don't think any government on earth has the power, or even desire, to move the moon and paint it orange."

The gathered warriors looked at one, puzzled, each one thinking the same thing, that Calvin was playing a childish 'made you look!' prank. But despite themselves, the eyes of everyone irresistibly drifted upwards.

A moment later, and it would have been possible to hear a pin drop.

Hanging in the sky, impossibly close but undeniably real, was a orange and black celestial body while it fit the technical definition of the moon, was certainly not a planetary body anyone present had ever seen back on earth.

The 'moon' was impossibly close. The wrong color, the wrong size. But undeniably real.

"People never look up enough," Calvin remark casually.

"That's…impossible," Ayhum gaped.

Agwang shook, and looked away before fear completely engulfed her heart.

"It's…gotta be a trick," North said.

Danny simply stood there, mouth gaping.

Nate put away his weapon, and began to rub his temple.

Megumi wanted to throw up.

"Well," Big Rig look a long hard look at the alien sky, "guess this means I'm going to miss my stories."

Next: Our rag tag team of warriors begin their march through the thick unknown jungle, and have an unexpected, and dangerous alien encounter…

Note: Some of the characters introduced are original. But mixed in there are a few homage's to mainstream characters from different TV shows. Have fun guessing who and where from!


	3. Chapter 3

Predators 2

Modern Prey

Act Two

"Alright, I don't know what's going on," Nate knelt down to where he'd hidden several weapons, concealed by a parachute covered in leaves. It was a heavy bag, with an Arabic brand name letter on the sides. Nate gritted his teeth as he felt the weight, and turned towards the original owner, "but it's clear to me we're all in the same boat. So we all need to work together if we're going to survive. That means no grudges, agreed?"

"…agreed," replied Ayhum, former Baathist and current Iraqi insurgent. Ayhum knew without a doubt that Nate worked Intelligence, and would give anything to interrogate him. That this man was willing to return his weapons spoke volumes about the situation they were faced with, "we're all friends now."

"Whatever," Big Rig muttered as he glanced aside.

"First thing we need to do is take stock, see what we have on us and proceed from there," Nate stated. In situations like this, he knew how easy it was for disorganization and ignorance to lead to chaos, and here that might very well mean death, "I'll go first, if you makes you feel better. I'm carrying five reloads for my carbine, three reloads for the rocket launcher and two SIG-Sauers with two reloads, plus three flash bangs and two tear gas grenades."

"The use of tear gas is illegal in warfare," Ayhum snapped.

"So's the use of soldiers in civilian clothing," Nate replied in a voice neutral voice that carried no small amount of judgment, "Next?"

"Not much of a spy if you expect us to just give that information out," Megumi spat, "plus your wrist watch and boots hardly look standard issue."

"I've got forty arrows, an axe, a survival knife and the board of education," Calvin stated. For a moment, he half wondered, half hoped that they'd ask him about his invention, which looked like a paddle in a leather sheath, but no one batted an eye.

"Are we really doing this?" Megumi snorted, "we supposed to read off what weapons we're carrying like this is some bad TV movie."

"None of us know each other or what the sitch is," Nate stated, "as a result, everyone needs to know where we stand as a whole. I've been in the field long enough to know that withholding tactical information from your team is as good as holding a loaded gun to their head, finger on the trigger."

"Oh come…"

"Spas12 with about four reloads," North reported, "plus a Berretta Tomcat, one reload."

Megumi rolled her eyes, "Just my baby Berrettas with six reloads each."

"Heckler and Koch with three reloads, berretta with two reloads," Ayhum stated, "plus twelve pounds of C4 with four remote detonators."

"Can't believe you have something like that," Nate muttered, despite himself.

"I just got my Smith and Wesson," said Big Rig, "it's loaded, plus two quick reloads, in my pocket and my belt holds about thirty."

"Seriously dude, a bandolier?" Jesse interrupted, "I mean they look sweet in movies, but in real life…"

"They were a gift from a know-nothin' friend," Big Rig defended with a shrug, "besides, I empty the thing down at the range every month so the wear and tear on the bullets ain't much. Plus, I look like a chump to pros like you and bad ass to idiots."

"Fair enough," Jesse nodded.

"Also, I got a Desert Eagle as back-up, one reload, brass knuckles, my chain o' command, and BBC knife," Big Rig finished.

"BBC?" Danny asked.

Big Rig pulled a large, seven inch bowie knife from behind his back, and waved it in front of his face with a smile, "Biker be cool."

"He names them?" Megumi muttered, "some people…"

"I just have my weapon," Agwang held up her AK-47, "two reloads clips, plus a machete."

"I just got my knives and a glock, no spares," Danny stated.

Zeya shifted uncomfortably from one leg to another, "Flame thrower, and my tank feels full. Plus, I have a side arm with two extra reloads."

"And that leaves us," Jesse smirked, "my AR-15 carries a hundred rounds thanks to big Bro, and the MK12 strapped to my back is fully loaded. My side arm is ready and loaded."

"AA-12 with a thirty round drum," Billy rattled off, like he was giving a report, "Heckler G36C on my back, the Serbu super shorty on my leg is filled with special Avon rounds. Plus a kabar combat knife, three frag grenades," Billy held up a large leather bag that he'd been carrying, "got three reloads for each. Jesse does too."

"Well, da-amn!" Danny said with a sigh of relief and cocky smile, "we got enough firepower here to take over a small country! Whoever dumped us is gonna regret it, holmes."

Nate, Jesse, Ayhum and Billy all gave Danny a deadpan, 'are you serious' look.

"Have you ever fought in a war, young man?" Ayhum asked quietly.

"Well, no, but…"

"Ammo runs like water," said Nate, "and most fire is used as cover fire, with dozens of other men to cover you while you reload. An automatic can actually shoot seven hundred bullets a minute, but the average clip only holds thirty. So in a fight, you can't even get one minute's worth of sustained fire before you're out."

"In the war in Iraq, it's estimated that for every insurgent killed, the equivalent of one ton of bullets were fired," Billy added, "does it look like we're carrying that much ammo, kid?

"…not really," Danny said sheepishly.

"Wow, way to kick our morale in the junk," Megumi remarked flippantly.

"I'm sorry, but we have to face the facts if we want to survive," Nate replied, "what we have is what we got, and we have to do everything we can to make it last. We've got to conserve resources, make our shots count and be smart."

"So now what?" Megumi asked casually, "we know what we got. Is a dick measuring contest next, just to be sure?"

"We need a little more information before we head out," Nate said firmly, "anyone remember being taken, or what they were doing, before…?"

"Freefall? Nah," North replied, "I mean, I'm armed like I'm doing bodyguard duty, but I don't remember accepting a job like that."

"Hold on," Jesse reached into his pocket, and fished out his cell phone, "damn, they must have just caught us when we finished mission prep. I leave this phone at the safe-house."

"Turn it on, and tell us the date," Nate ordered.

Jesse did. When they heard the date, more than a few eyes widened.

"Two weeks…" Zeya breathed. He almost didn't want to make it back home now, terrified that his commanding officer would kill him for deserting. North squinted his eyes as he thought about his lost business and concerned friends, Big Rig wondered how his crew was handling his disappearance while Ayhum was certain that he was written off as dead by his fellow Iraqi soldiers.

Of the entire group, Calvin was the only one who wasn't horrified on some level at having lost a week's worth of memories.

Both Nate and Billy were shared their concern, but the two were dwelling on something bigger. If they were on another planet, the odd skyline alone was enough to confirm that it wasn't any system that Astrologers on earth had discovered. So the eleven men and women had traveled hundreds of billions, possibly trillions, of miles…inside of two weeks.

The level of technology and sophistication that implied went beyond terrifying. If their weapons were half as advanced as their space travel…

The thought went beyond scary. It was as if they'd caught a glimpse of the Devil himself.

"Okay, that's all the information we're going to get by standing around," Nate pushed past the gut wrenching feeling. The only way he could stay in command of his fear was to simply stay in command, and acting with conviction was the best way to get others to follow. He pointed in the opposite direction of where he and Ayhum had landed, "we're going to head this way. Ideally, it'll point is in the direction of whoever kidnapped us."

"How can you know that?" Agwang snapped.

"If we are indeed on another planet," Nate saw how the statement still refused to sink in with some, "then it stands to reason that they'd drop us in the most fuel efficient manner. Which would mean pushing us out the airlock as they come down out of the stratosphere, and then head to their base-camp. We landed in a relatively straight line, after all. Besides, whoever took us knows sure as hell knows where they dumped us. I intend to meet them on my terms, not theirs. Anyone feel differently?"

No one replied, but rather found something interesting to look at on their shoes.

"Sounds good to me," Big Rig commented, "lets get out of here before something ugly shows up."

oooOOooo

"So maybe this is just some virtual reality experiment," Jesse offered, "we all hooked up together in a lab somewhere, like on the Matrix."

"Then why call attention to the unreality?" Calvin countered, "and any experiments with virtual reality would likely be done with computer programmers, who would recognize any flaws in the programming. And can you smell the extra oxygen in the air? No…this is something different."

"I still say virtual reality," Jesse grumbled, "no way those planets are real…"

The eleven men and women marched through the strange jungle like a group of tourists through a city, casually chatting while taking in the sights. Nate thought about ordering everyone to be quiet, but even though he was confident that most would listen to him, it would wreck havoc with morale. There was a nervous tension in the air, and casual conversation helped diffuse some of it. The more these people got comfortable with one another, the better they might work together in a battle.

And Nate was certain there'd be a battle before everything was resolved.

"Why are you letting them yammer on?" Ayhum hissed.

"Because I can't stop them," Nate said as he rolled his eyes.

"If we were in the Iraqi army, or any army in the world…!"

"But we're not," Nate interrupted, "besides, I think we have pred eyes on us already, so noise discipline is pointless in light of that."

"Pred…?" Ayhum's eyes widened as he caught the inference. Allah only knew how many of his brethren had fallen to those damned drones, "are you certain?"

"As certain as I can be," Nate shrugged, "remember, they…whoever they are, dropped us here, so they have a reasonable idea where to find us. Until something happens, we're just groping in the dark, so for now, I'm willing to risk a little noise."

Ayhum considered the options, and with a sigh realized he agreed with Nate's assessment. And he casually hoped that agreeing with an American soldier would be the craziest thing to happen to them.

oooOOooo

Danny wasn't quite the deep thinker that the other members of the group were. His last memories of earth were resigning himself to death in the next few days. The fact that he was still alive, and very, very far from where he might be killed gave Danny a new perspective on life.

Well, a new perspective was overstating it. But now that he no longer had a death sentence hanging over his head, both his mind and body reminded him that he was still a young man, with an eye for the ladies.

Of course, there were only two women even around, and one was seemingly attached to the hip with that 'North' guy, so Danny thought he might see what the second chick was like. Danny thought she was pretty damn sexy, tall, with good muscle tone, nice chest but Danny wasn't so shallow as to dismiss personality. He liked a girl as tough as him, and hell were they rare.

So as they marched through the strange jungle, Danny inched his way towards her. He was seconds away from opening his mouth to say something when she pointed her AK-47 at him with one hand and sneered at him.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, Agwung…"

"Agwang," she corrected. The young woman turned her head and gave Danny a hard look, "you've been staring at me for the last ten minutes."

"Just wanted to talk," Danny held up his hands defensively, "wasn't going to try anything, chill chica. Besides, if I did, someone would put a bullet in me pretty quick."

Awgang snorted derisively.

"Just curious, what were you doing before…now?" Danny asked.

"Hiding out in the jungle from my husband," Agwang replied.

"Oh," Danny tried to process the information.

"He was an RUF leader, and kidnapped me when I was eleven and forced me to marry him," Agwang explained, "when I was fourteen, I was expected to accompany him into battle in addition to my other duties. So one night, after he was became drunk and chose simply to beat me instead of raping and beating me, I ran into the jungle. And now I find myself here. Satisfied?"

"Umm, yes…I mean no…!" Danny sheepishly backed away, Agwang glaring at him the entire time.

"Whew doggy," Big Rig, who was some ten feet away but still managed to hear everything, fanned himself mockingly, "can feel the flames from here. No one's walking away from that in one piece."

"You all heart, big guy," Jesse remarked. He stopped for a second, and wiped a thick brow of sweat from his face.

"Hey, why don't you let me carry your bag?" Big Rig offered.

Jesse gave the Biker a half suspicious look despite himself.

"Look, I ain't stupid. Between your guns and ammunition, you're carrying some sixty pounds of weight," Big Rig said, "you look fit as fuck, but don't have your brothers muscle. And since you got the best guns, I like you to keep in fighting shape."

"Enlightened self interest?" Jesse chuckled

"Somethin' like that."

Jesse handed over his bag of ammunition, and then rolled his shoulder and cracked his neck, relieved to have the weight gone from his shoulders. With a grunt, Big Rig tossed the bag of ammunition over his shoulder.

"Things get hot, I'll just drop this next to ya, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"Hope so, because I'll likely be hauling ass afterwards," Big Rig chuckled, "look, about the tattoo, it don't mean nothin', I was just in for a spell, and they thought since I had a crew…"

"Look, 'Rig, you don't have to explain anything to me," Jesse pulled a balaclava with a black and white skull design and held it in front of the Biker, "see this fright mask? Me and my brother wear 'em when we go on raids. Makes us look every bit the 'scary black man' stereotype, even when we're helping the locals take down heavily armed gangs. The colors life makes you wear and who you are, are two different things."

oooOOooo

As the group made their way through the forest, they did not go unobserved.

Several sets of alien, animalistic eyes followed them, impossibly high up in the trees, almost invisible to naked the human eye. The only way they could possibly be seen at all, in fact, is if someone were staring right at them.

The aliens silently watched the group move, how they interacted, who was their leader, the weapons they carried and where they might be heading.

As they saw the group approaching an ideal spot for an ambush, the leader of the group allowed a low, otherworldly purr to escape his throat, as he held his spear. Soon, the wait would be over…

oooOOooo

Zeya made a point to walk on the outer edge of the group, on the fringe of attention. No matter what 'Nate' said about them being in this together, he very much doubted that any of them would be willing to overlook his actions while he served the ruling junta of Burma. After all, the only way Zeya could still live with himself was to just stop caring about everyone in the world but himself. About two years ago, his CO had shown his unit the American movie "Rambo" and explained in no uncertain terms that that was how the rest of the world saw them and wanted visited upon them.

Everyone in the unit swore to return that hatred a hundred fold, and Zeya was no exception. But in a situation like this, he knew that he still needed the foreigners, and that for the moment, they needed him. He wasn't so naïve as to think someone had kidnapped a group of armed soldiers for anything other than a fight. And there was the strange fact that he could communicate with them…

Ultimately, it was because Zeya was on the edge, always looking outwards for any sign of trouble that the group found a welcome reprieve. He turned his head to look down a gentle slope as they passed, and saw something he simply couldn't explain.

"Hey, hey everyone!" Zeya called out, "there's…I…come look at this!"

Within seconds the rag tag group was gathered at the top of the hill, looking down at what, right then, had to be the most beautiful thing they'd seen on this planet yet.

In a small little clearing, were at least six apple trees, pear trees, banana trees, covered in vines with strawberries. The trees stood apart from the rest of the wild jungle like an oasis. No one could remember the last time they'd eaten, literally, and though they were far from starving, there wasn't a single one of them who wasn't hungry or thirsty after over an hour of marching. The mere sight of such a bounty caused each and every one of them to feel their throat parch. Most took an unconscious step towards the trees before they were even aware of what they were doing.

Nate however, used to surviving more on his wits than firearms, had his suspicions. A close examination showed that apples, pears and bananas were growing on the same tree (how was that even possible?) while strawberries grew on vines wrapped around the trees. It stood apart from the rest of the jungle, thick growth all around while it sat at the bottom of a slope.

Whereas everyone else saw food, all Nate saw was an excellent kill zone.

"Alright, talk about luck!" Danny began his way down the hill at a brisk pace towards the fruit trees.

"Hope that stuff's edible," North muttered, as he and everyone else followed after Danny.

"Figures that there ain't no steak trees on this crazy planet," Big Rig mumbled.

"Alright, everyone just hold up a sec!" Nate ordered, but only Ayhum even heard him. The spy knew that drastic action was required to keep anyone from eating the fruit, so he whipped out his sidearm, and fired a single shot into the air. Damn near everyone jumped as if struck.

"What the hell was the idea of that?" Megumi demanded.

"Damn it, you just gave away our position to anyone with ears!" Billy snapped.

"…Just don't drink the water'" Nate said flatly, "it's a universal piece of advice for anyone traveling abroad. Does anyone know why?"

"I do," Calvin said with a bright smile, "because everywhere on earth has different microbes. For most people, your body is only adjusted to the bugs found in your hometown or culture. So even if you went from the United States to France, you might end up with some stomach troubles."

"That's exactly right," Nate pointed towards the fruit trees, "And that's just on earth. This is a whole different planet! I've never even seen trees like that before. I know we're hungry, but we can't start just grabbing fruit and hoping for the best."

"Actually, I think we'll be okay," Calvin said.

Nate glared at the teacher, "And why do you think that?"

"You're a smart young man," Calvin replied, "do you happen to know what Montezuma's Revenge is?"

"An intestinal problem caused by drinking water that hasn't been purified," Nate answered, deciding for all involved that it was best to gloss over the diarrhea, bloating and cramping.

"Well, I had it," Calvin scratched the top of his head sheepishly, "while I was camping, long story. And now I don't."

Almost unconsciously, Nate turned his head towards Ayhum and Zeya, his mind running a mile a minute.

"Plus, we're deep in a strange jungle and yet no one has had the slightest hint of allergies," Calvin continued, "and you're right, those trees aren't like anything else on earth. I don't know why we're here, but I'm confident our hosts, whoever they are, want us in good health."

"Sounds good to me," Big Rig was already eying an apple tree.

"Alright," Nate closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn't confident that it was the right move, but at the same time, he was positive that he couldn't keep the group from trying it anyways. He instinctively knew that if he wanted to keep control of this collection of misfits, he'd have to order them to do something they were likely going to do anyways, and make it seem like his idea, "help yourselves, everyone. But no one gorge and keep an eye out, okay?"

"Hey, there are freakin' melons here!" Danny called out.

Nate rolled his eyes, until he felt Ayhum's hand on his shoulder.

"We will keep watch," the Arab said.

oooOOooo

Danny was far from stupid, but outside of body building and combat, he wasn't very attentive. It didn't occur to him that he shouldn't wonder too far from the group, or that there might be threats close by.

Instead, he thought he'd be okay as long as he was within eyesight of everyone, and he didn't even bother to puzzle out why they had all been kidnapped. He just hoped to find some peaches in this grove, and so that's what he focused on, to the exclusion of most everything else.

Danny looked all around, looking for more kinds of fruit, but paused for a moment when he thought he saw something odd in the tall trees. It was at least several stories up, but looked at least human shaped. Danny made out sharp, clawed hands before his brain caught up with his body.

"Guys!" Danny shouted. He turned around, and was running back towards the others in a dead sprint as he saw the creature drop down from the branches as effortlessly as a child jumping down off a step stool. Danny hadn't made it thirty feet before the creature landed in a crouch some thirty feet and began racing after him, crossing the distance with impossibly long strides.

oooOOooo

Nate, the closest to Danny's position, was just starting to take a bite of an apple, when he heard the gangbanger screaming and running towards him like a bat out of hell.

"Guys, guys, help!" Danny shouted.

Nate dropped his apple and brought up his carbine, but did a double take when he saw what was chasing the young Hispanic man.

The creature was human shaped, but that was where any similarity between it and humans ended. The creature was blue skinned, with dark stripes, at least nine feet tall and a cat-like face, wearing a loin-cloth around his waist. Nate was actually so dumbfounded by the sight of the alien that he lowered his weapon, only by a little, to stare and gawk in disbelief.

The creature overtook Danny almost effortlessly, and tackled him to the ground. Danny tried to fight, to reach his knives, but the alien was too heavy and too fast. In the time it took Danny just to get on his back, the creature already had its knife (which to Danny looked like a machete) raised over its head, poised to crack Danny's skull like an egg.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, but heard three shots ring out, and when he opened them again he saw his attacker clutching his hand to his chest, blood streaming through his fingers. Danny scrambled to his feet, and raced towards the group as they ran to him.

"Everyone back to back!" Nate barked, "circle up, watch the trees but hold your fire!"

"Little late for that," Megumi said with a grim smirk, a berretta in each hand.

"If I didn't, we would have lost a man," Ayhum defended.

"Yeah, but it wouldn't have been much of a loss…"

"That's enough!" Nate snapped, his carbine pointed outwards, "they're coming. Fire only if fired upon. We need to avoid more bloodshed!"

Nate said that as the aliens seem to come out of the woodwork, surrounding them. A half dozen dropped out of the trees, one stood up out of a pile of leaves like a demon from the pit, while others stepped from behind trees like ghosts.

Some of the cat aliens carried large spears, others simple bows and arrows or even crude axes. But every single one was well armed, and carried their weapons with confidence.

"Hold your fire," Nate repeated, "look at their weapons, they're too primitive to have kidnapped us! Hold your fire!"

"Unless they're like, Civil War re-enactors," Big Rig countered, revolver in hand.

"I think Nate's correct," Calvin offered. He and Danny were the only ones not pointing a weapon, surrounded by the group as they were, "but we still have a problem. You said that their weapons indicate that they aren't responsible for placing us on this planet because they're too primitive. Well, what do you think our weapons look like to them?"

Nate swallowed hard.

"Why aren't they attacking?" Zeya asked, more anxious than he should have been. While he had been involved in hundreds of military actions, he had been in scant few battles. He barely knew how to conduct himself in the heat of battle, and being this close on to the edge was maddening. His instincts for self preservation fought with his desire for blood

"I think they're still trying to figure out what happened to their friend," North nodded towards the fallen body of the alien Ayhum had shot, "our boom sticks made them twitchy."

"They won't stay that way forever," Billy replied, "I count six on this side…"

"…six over here," Nate reported, "no one fire. They may be innocent victims just like us…"

"…well, it's just their bad luck," Big Rig opinioned.

"Don't even joke about that," Agwang hissed.

"…and if we kill them, that means we have fewer bullets for the people actually responsible for all this."

"Okay," Big Rig shrugged as he looked down the sights of his revolver, "you convinced me."

"So what do we do about these shit heads?" Megumi asked, "because my arms are getting tired here. And I think we should be the ones to break this Mexican stand-off."

"Let me try something," Calvin said, "let me see if I can make peace with them."

"And if you can't?" Ayhum asked.

"Then I'll be dead," Calvin replied, "and you guys should probably open fire before my body hits the ground."

Nate clenched his jaw, "Alright, but before you do that…Billy, North?"

"Yeah?"

"North, sweep left with your shotgun, Billy, you sweep right," Nate ordered, "aiming doesn't matter as much with your weapons, so lets use that. Everyone else, pick a close target. If things go south, they'll go south quick."

Calvin set down all his weapons except for one, and gently brushed past Nate as he stepped out of the defensive circle. He moved slowly, hands raised, towards the closest alien, which stood over his fallen comrade. Calvin glanced down at the creature, and saw that he was still breathing. The wounds didn't appear to be too deep, and Calvin began to fear that these creatures were tougher than they looked.

All the more reason he had to make peace, Calvin told himself.

" !" hissed the creature closest to Calvin. The teacher paused for a second, because for a moment he felt as though he perfectly understood the creature's words, not in his ears, but in his head and heart.

"I don't know," Calvin replied. He unsheathed his knife slow, and then flipped it in his hand, holding it by the blade. He then offered it to the creature, "All I can tell you is that we are not responsible."

" ?" hissed the creature as he reluctantly took the blade.

Calvin said nothing. He simply got down on his knees, steepled his hands, and began reciting The Lord's prayer.

Nate watched in amazement as Calvin knelt there, praying with barely a sign of fear. He didn't know what to make of it, incredibly stupid or pure genius (on the battlefield, those two were closer most people suspected), but then, neither did the aliens.

A full minute passed, before the head alien turned to his tribe, made a noise no human throat could reproduce. Two of the creatures went to their fallen man, and gently picked him up, and the alien Calvin had offered his knife returned it to the old man exactly as it was offered to him.

" ," said the Cat like creature.

Calvin stopped his prayers, and accepted the knife back.

"Thank you."

Everyone watched, awestruck, as the aliens left as swiftly as they came. Calvin resheathed his knife, and looked at the group with a good natured smile.

"And that's the power of prayer, people."

oooOOooo

At Nate's insistence, everyone had a quick, filling meal of fruit, and then prepared to head back out. Agwang, North and Calvin were given the responsibility of carrying about fifteen pounds of fruit wrapped up in the parachutes, while everyone else had guard duty.

Having now met creatures they thought were only possible with CGI, everyone was taking the fact that they were on an alien planet a lot more serious than before. All doubts were banished, and their circumstances, so far from home with little idea why, were sinking in. Virtually no one spoke, and when they did it was never for anything good, in Nate's opinion.

Agwang, for instance, found tracks that belonged to neither humans or the aliens they encountered, while Calvin seemed to stop them every twenty minutes to warn them about a poisonous plant that seemed to be a mutated of something back home. Everything they said revealed that this planet was some large puzzle, and Nate hated that he had no idea what the final picture was supposed to be. To him, facts wer as important as bullets, and he didn't think they had enough of either.

They marched for another three hours, before they came upon an area of the forest completely littered with metal cages. Some were resting in crushed vegetation, others hung from tree limbs by their parachutes. All were wide open, and their captives nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, this ain't good news, is it?" Big Rig said, with a weary sigh.

"They don't all look recent," Calvin pointed towards a cage covered in vegetation, "whoever dumped all these cages may simply prefer to do it in the same spot."

Nate glanced upwards at the sun, as briefly as humanly possible even though he was wearing sunglasses, but still long enough to see that an eclipse was approaching. Only then did it occur to him that he had no idea how many hours of daylight they had left.

"We're making camp here," Nate said suddenly.

"Here, where who knows what was dropped?" snapped Megumi, "are you insane?"

"If they were dropped in cages, chances are they were wild animals," Nate replied, "and I've never know a scared animal to remain in one place, especially as this place is likely filled with the scents of other animals. So anything dropped here high tailed it out of here the second their feet touched the ground. At the moment, this is probably the safest place we can be."

"Plus, who knows how much daylight we have left," Billy said.

"That too," Nate replied, "we'll setup camp by that huge oak over there. Calvin, Zeya, Danny, Megumi start clearing out the brush, about ten feet in front of the tree. Big Rig, North, Agwang, start collecting firewood. Billy, Jesse, keep watch. Ayhum and me are going to collect some more rope and parachutes for shelter from the cages. Everyone keep within sight of one another ad give a shout if you see anything even remotely odd."

"Yes mother," Megumi quipped.

"Hey, if you're tired of living you can just ignore me," replied Nate, "alright, lets get to it people!"

oooOOooo

The shelter was by no means pretty, but given their limited resources, Nate was satisfied it was adequate. Two of the parachutes, one end staked to the ground, another end to some tall tree limbs made a temporary shelter in the event of rain. They'd gotten a fire going (no thanks to Zeya. That man was terrifying of using even a fraction of his fuel), and Big Rig was regaling everyone recounting drunken antics of his biker gang during the Super Bowl.

Of course, Nate insisted (and everyone agreed) that there needed to be a watch. So when the subject came up, he volunteered himself and Ayhum.

"So did you volunteer me because you hoped to continue this morning's interrogation?" Ayhum asked.

"I would if it mattered," Nate replied honestly, "but I doubt anything you could tell me would be worth a damn thing out here. And I didn't volunteer you because I enjoy odd couple situations."

"Then why?"

"Because I wanted to know how long you were going to keep your secret," Nate said casually.

"…I have no idea what you're talking about," Ayhum said softly.

"You know I work intelligence," Nate countered, "and spare me any bad jokes. I've been hunting you a while now, as you know, but you probably didn't know that I have access to your Republican Guard evaluations."

Ayhum scowled, "Those records were supposed to be destroyed."

"Most were, but a few higher-ups held onto some as bargaining chips," Nate explained, "that's how I know you went to Oxford. And that's how I know you can barely speak English, even after personalized help."

Ayhum said nothing.

"According to what I read, your superiors were pretty pissed that they footed the bill for your education and you weren't fluent in English by the end of it," Nate said, "it was the reason you were overlooked for promotion so often, in fact."

"I had a learning disability," Ayhum grunted defensively.

"Did some checking with your teachers, they liked you by the way," Nate let his Carbine hang from the strap, and rubbed his hands together to get some heat, "and they report the same thing. So one, you're the world's greatest actor and simply forgot to continue the bit when I tackled you, or two…"

"I don't know what happened," Ayhum said, answering the unspoken question, "it was like a switch was suddenly turned on in my head. I remember every word of English I've ever heard now and know exactly what it means. And it's only been like that since I woke up in freefall here. I used profanity I didn't even know the definition of!"

"That's what I thought," Nate nodded towards the group, and towards Zeya, "our unwilling arsonist? He's part of a Burmese death squad, mark my words. It's possible a foot soldier could have somehow learned fluent English, but I doubt it."

"Which means it was somehow uploaded," Ayhum stated, "and before you ask, I checked my head. No new scars, no areas of numbness, nothing like that. I simply have a new understanding of English in its entirety."

For a moment, the two soldiers looked away from one another, unwilling to speak. Both were highly intelligent, though you didn't have to be to realize that such effortless brain surgery meant advanced technology decades, if not centuries ahead of what they were accustomed to.

"…maybe we're here to see how various armies work together," Nate proposed.

"What do you mean?"

"Imagine how earth looks to any potential aliens looking for military allies," Nate explained, "fragmented, no central language, different weapons. So they decide to see how we do under pressure, if we're worth making contact with."

"Possible," Ayhum rubbed his chin, "but what about Calvin, Big Rig and the boy?"

"Control group," Nate offered, "Danny and Big Rig aren't soldiers, but are used to violence. Maybe Calvin's an avid hunter and they took that to mean he's okay with violence."

"That's…possible," Ayhum conceded. The Arab didn't know how much he actually believed the idea, but almost all of him _wanted_ to believe it. It gave him some comfort understanding why they were taken, why they were on this twisted planet that resembled earth in so many ways, yet was still so very wrong.

The theory was cold comfort, but it was still a comfort that Ayhum let himself take to during the next couple of hours.

That comfort died a violent death towards the end of his shift, just seconds after the screaming started.

oooOOooo

Jesse rolled his neck, working out the kinks as his brother Billy stood patiently waiting. It was no secret between them that Jesse was a heavier sleeper, and took longer to wake up from cat naps.

When he was fully awake, Jesse silently nodded to his brother, and they went to relieve Nate and Ayhum without a word between them. The two had come up in the service together and after years in Special Forces, to say nothing of living together as brothers, they were a well oiled machine that barely needed any words to know what they needed done.

Even when they saw a flash of light in the distance, they knew what to do without a word. Billy leveled his weapon, while Jesse went about waking everyone. Within moments, soldier, mercenary, teacher and biker were standing side by side, staring at the blinking light.

From their perspective, all the group saw was a flashing light in the distance no greater than a firefly. But they knew how the trees and vegetation blocked most of the light, meaning that the light sources had to be pretty impressive to make it this far.

"Looks to be at least a mile out," Calvin observed.

"Think it's those furry bastards?" Megumi asked.

"Not likely," Danny replied, "I felt how strong those things were when that one grabbed me. Tough as fuck, believe me."

A scream of pain cut through the forest like a knife, ragged, long and without a doubt, belonging to the alien creatures Danny spoke of.

"Strength doesn't always matter," Calvin said as he swallowed nervously.

"Shii-ette," Big Rig shook his head, "what do you suppose is going on? Maybe we should high tail it?"

"Maybe we should help them?" Billy proposed, though he knew how stupid the suggestion sounded.

"Neither," Nate said with complete calm, "fighting in the dark is hard enough when you have professional soldiers and night vision goggles, something we don't have. We know the terrain here, we have the tree and cages for cover and if they wanted to attack us, they would have done it by now."

Another scream and growl pierced the night briefly.

"Not exactly reassuring, man," North commented.

"Well, this situation is anything but reassuring," replied Nate, "but! I have good news and bad news."

Everyone turned to look at the spy as he went back to the camp, and grabbed a long stick from the firewood pile.

"The good news is that I know where we're heading tomorrow," Nate jammed the stick into the ground.

"And the bad news?"

Nate tilted the stick in the direction of the light. It was a simple method, which he needed now since he was too tired to memorize the new stars in the sky.

"We're heading towards that light, in the direction of the alien camp."

"Are you fucking nuts?" Megumi demanded, "Why the hell would we do that?"

"To learn whatever we can about who attacked or killed them," Nate explained, "see what type of weapons they use, how many they killed, anything and everything we can. We need to know what happened."

"Why? Do we look like God damn CSI?"

Nate scowled at Megumi, "We learn what we can so whatever killed them…doesn't kill us."

Megumi fell silent.

The lights and shallow sounds continued on for several minutes, then the darkness of night took back over. Everyone waited with baited breath, half expecting the lights to pick back up again.

"Alright everyone, show's over," Nate said finally, "lets get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a…"

An alien roar lanced through the jungle, unlike the aliens they'd met, unlike anything they had ever heard before. First there was one, then another and finally a third.

It hit the group like a sledge hammer, and not a one of them even noticed that they'd taken a step backwards after hearing it.

"You know, we could just run," Danny proposed.

"Run?" Ayhum snorted, "to where? What direction? From what? No, he's right. We need to head to the battle scene at first light."

"I don't like it anymore than you do," Nate said, "but we don't have a choice. We're in someone else's house, playing someone else's game. And the only way we're going to survive is if we figure out what the rules are, before we're all killed."

Next: The dogs of war are unleashed, a man falls. And then things start to get bad…


	4. Chapter 4

Predators 2

Modern Prey

Act Three

ooOOoo

In everyone's opinion, morning couldn't come soon enough. Sleeping on the cold hard ground was hard enough by itself, but the fear of literal monsters lurking in the darkness was easily twice as worse. Every time the wind blew, there wasn't someone who tensed, expecting some boogey man to jump out and devour them whole.

Of course, there was an exception to every rule. Nate had roughed it in Afghanistan and though he had better supplies then, one night in the open jungle wasn't much worse. More than that, he was fairly confident that they wouldn't be attacked at night and if they were by some chance, it wouldn't matter because they'd all be dead anyway. He slept soundly, all things considered, and only awoke when he felt Big Rig nudging him awake with his boot.

"First light, spy guy," Big Rig said.

"Thanks," Nate rubbed his eyes, and sat up, "there any fruit left?"

Nate saw how everyone refused to meet his eyes or found an excuse to look the other way, a nervous energy hanging in the air, like children caught in a lie.

"Okay, you ate it all, whatever," Nate sighed.

"Actually, that's not it," Calvin replied. He held up one of the parachutes that held the fruit they'd picked, and Nate saw how it sloshed as if filled with ice, "our food literally broke down over the night. Now it's just a strange mixture between compost and slurry. It's really very interesting, if you think about it. The bio-engineering that must have gone into them…"

"Right," Nate rubbed his forehead, "should have thought about that. Limit the distance anyone could travel from their food supplies."

"Makes perfect sense," Megumi rolled her eyes, "so are we going to march to that slaughter site now, or what?"

"In due time," Nate replied, "first, I want to do a quick weapons check. I don't think we're going to be as lucky today as we were yesterday."

"What, when we woke up on a strange alien planet? Or when we got attacked by real live thundercats?" Jesse asked.

"Yes," Nate replied, "we need to be sure that we're ready for any surprises and that means making sure all our weapons work."

"Do we really want to take apart our guns out here?" Danny asked.

"We can do it two at a time," Nate replied, "while everyone else stands watch. But we got lucky. I'm certain that today's going to be ugly, and we need to be ready."

"You really don't think our weapons are sabotaged, do you?" Zeya asked, as he became conscious of the weight on his back. He had only the barest training in maintaining his weapon, and absolutely none when it came to disassembling and reassembling it. If it was damaged in some subtle way, he would only find out after it was too late.

"It's what I would do. Hell, wouldn't you?"

To Nate's surprise, no one put up much of an argument after he said that. At first he thought it was because they agreed with him. Later, as he and Agwang were disassembling their weapons, he realized it was also because none of them were too eager to head into the jungle to the site of a massacre.

Nate examined the firing pin, cylinder and magazines of each of his weapons carefully, looking for some tell tale signs of sabotage or tampering. He found nothing, not even a single indication that anyone other than him had ever even examined the weapon. When he was finished with his guns, he took a look at his grenades, examining them and their functionality as best he could without actually pulling the pins.

He found, to both his relief and fear, absolutely nothing. The spy was now completely confident that every weapon he was carrying worked, but in its own way, that fact was terrifying.

"Done," Nate felt the weight of his own weapons now more than ever. As he stood up to take watch, he pushed all those thoughts out of his head, secretly hoping that someone else would find something amiss with their weapons.

But when Billy, Jesse, Megumi, everyone save Big Rig and Danny had checked out their weapons (even Calvin made sure that his bow string hadn't been cut and his arrows or his arrows messed with) and found them to be perfectly fine, Nate felt a knot form in his stomach.

"Hmm, gotta be careful," Big Rig made a big show of pulling out his revolver, handling it like it was a stick of dynamite, "this here's a complex machine. One wrong move and she'll seize up on ya!"

Big Rig flipped the cylinder open, spun it and then flipped it closed.

"She's good," Big Rig smiled.

"And your Desert Eagle?" Nate asked.

"That's one thing I ain't about to tinker with out here," Big Rig replied, "don't worry, I made a point of cleaning my adopted baby every month and she ain't failed me yet."

"Adopted?" Megumi gave Big Rig an odd look.

"Three guys with small brains and big guns," Big Rig clarified, "when I settled their hash, there were a few beauties they didn't need no more, so I gave 'em a home."

"Whatever," Megumi rolled her eyes, then glared at Danny, "hey boy, you gonna take that glock apart already? We're burning daylight here!"

"I'm…uhh, not sure how," Danny said sheepishly as he held it out in front of him. The truth of the matter was that this was a relatively new gun, picked up two months ago. Danny had never kept a gun long enough to need to know how to clean or maintain it. No point in keeping evidence, after all.

"You gotta be kidding me," Big Rig snatched the gun out of Danny's hand, and went about disassembling it, "if you were my kid, I'd take you over my knee just on principle!"

Danny rubbed the back of his head nervously as he suddenly became the center of attention, as professional soldiers directed their scorn and disbelief at him for being so ignorant about his own weapon. Big Rig never stopped muttering the entire time he was disassembling or reassembling the gun. When he was finally done, he handed it back to Danny, glaring at him so hard, Danny thought he might burst into flame.

"This thing needs some love, boy," Big Rig snapped, "but she'll fire. The safety's on so you don't shoot your pecker off, but if we were back home I wouldn't trust you with a BB gun."

"Yeah yeah," Danny holstered his gun, "we done now, can we go?"

"Good question," Megumi said, "because I'll bet good money that our fearless leader didn't really expect us to find anything wrong with our weapons."

Nate could feel everyone direct their attention at him, but he shrugged it off, "Yeah, you're right, I didn't. Though I wasn't lying when I said that I would have sabotaged them."

"Then why did we just waste a fucking hour checking them?" Megumi demanded.

"That's a good question," Nate glanced around, and made certain to catch everyone's eyes, "almost everyone in here has been in a fight or battle at one time in their life. Can anyone tell me a time when they ever left an enemy with a weapon?"

No one replied. As a general rule, they were rarely in a position to disarm their enemies (or in Zeya's case, his targets weren't armed to begin with), but when the opportunity arose, not a single one of them had let it pass by. After all, no matter how good you thought you were, a bullet didn't care about how many years of Special Force training you had, how many push-ups you did that morning or how well you could hit a target at two hundred yards.

"Our kidnappers left us armed, that tells us something," Nate explained.

"Like what?" Jesse asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Nate replied honestly, "maybe it means that they're ignorant. That our weapons are so primitive to them that they don't even register as weapons. Or it means that they're cocky, and don't think our weapons matter. Or maybe something else entirely. Whatever the reason, the fact that our weapons weren't sabotaged is information we needed, both in terms of understanding our enemy and practicality."

There were some grumbles, but Nate could tell that his explanation had sunk in.

"Alright," Nate said, "lets head out to where we saw those lights last night and see what we can learn."

"I know this sounds wrong coming from me," Calvin said quietly, "but I'm quickly coming to the conclusion that ignorance really is bliss."

"Speaking of which," Billy pointed at the leather sheathed paddle that hung from his belt, "I've been wondering, what the heck is that thing, sir?"

"About time someone finally asked," Calvin pulled the 'paddle' out of the sheath. It looked almost like a think rugby paddle, only with ebony spikes on the outer edge, "this here is my 'Board of Education'. It's a modern recreation of an Aztec sword called Maquahuitl. The edges are obsidian, the sharpest blades on earth. I added a few personal touches, but this baby can cut through the carcass of a dead pig with a single swing."

Danny's eyes widened, "You've gotta be kidding me!"

"Nope. Done it at least nine times now," Calvin winked, "this is a new one. I make a new one every year I decide to teach geology. Even rocks can be interesting, if you know how to present them."

"You may finally get to school someone with that," Nate slapped a clip into his Carbine, "lets move out, people."

oooOOooo

They marched single file, with Agwang insisting on taking the lead. According to her, her years in the jungles of Africa made her better prepared to cut them a path through the dense bush. Nate, whose work experience covered mostly Russia, Afghanistan and Iraq, didn't argue. He just told her to keep them in a straight line, and followed closely behind, counting his steps.

At roughly two thousand and three hundred, or about half a mile, they reached the alien camp.

Nate let out a low whistle as he saw the carnage. Seeing the bodies that littered the ground, the scorched trees, and general chaos that had overtaken this small patch of jungle, it was hard not to be impressed by the power of whoever was responsible.

Two bodies hung from a branch by their ankles, skinned like an animal in a Butcher's window. There were smothering leaves and branches everywhere, as if someone had just set off dozens of fireworks, and trees toppled in unnatural directions and ways. There were several rocks towards the edge of the camp scorched black.

That by itself was bad enough, but blood and alien limbs littered the ground like confetti after a part. It was half battle, half butcher shop.

"This was a slaughter," Zeya breathed, the resident expert.

"Alright, everyone take a look around," Nate ordered, "there were an even dozen of them when they ambushed us at the fruit trees. We need a body count, plus we need to see how they died, like what weapons were used to kill them and anything else that looks odd."

"Anything that looks odd," Jesse deadpanned, "you mean besides all the dead ETs diced to bits by someone unknown party?"

"Yeah, besides that," Nate amended.

Everyone spread out, carefully stepping over fallen branches, dead bodies or the odd severed limb. It was a gruesome task, but everyone there was very familiar with death. They ignored the foreboding feeling they felt when they saw the corpses, and went about examining the evidence as best they could.

oooOOooo

"Nate, over here!" Ayhum called out. Nate, who'd been examining deep burn marks on a tree, turned his head and the Iraqi and Calvin standing in front of one of the aliens, who's dead body was resting against a rock. Nate saw the body, and realized that it was the only one that looked remotely peaceful.

"What is it?" Nate asked.

"This was the one that I shot," Ayhum stated. He pointed towards the small pool of blood underneath the alien, "and from the looks of things, he bled out."

"How's that important?" Nate asked, "he could have died before his friends were killed."

"He's not cold enough," Calvin replied, "I mean I'm not a doctor, but it did get pretty cold last night and he's still a little warm."

Nate pressed his fingers to the alien's head to test for himself. It wasn't an exact science, but he'd learned to tell time of (immediate) death from body temperature, and Calvin was right. The body was too warm for him, or rather, not cold enough, to have been dead long.

"The bullets didn't pierce deeply enough," Nate guessed, "but they didn't know how to treat it. So he bled out over the night."

"Bad way to go," Ayhum muttered, "damn it…"

"You did what you had to," Nate said softly, "okay, so they ignored a wounded man. That tells us something."

"More than that," Calvin motioned towards the ground, and Nate saw three pronged tracks that didn't look like anything he'd ever seen before, "whoever they were, they had help. Dogs, or wolves if you want, for lack of a better term. But I think they may be…meaner than any animals we know of."

Both Ayhum and Nate gave Calvin a befuddled look.

"Predators will go for easy prey over hard any day of the week," Calvin explained, "the animals also ignored the wounded man. They just left him alone while they attacked his much harder to kill friends, and then left him alone to die without taking so much as a nibble. That's not normal predator behavior for any animal from earth. Carrion's easier and just as tasty, after all."

"Damn it," Nate muttered, "anything else?"

"Just that this wasn't their camp," Calvin said, "they didn't move any brush to clear out insects, gather any wood for fire, nothing like that. Whatever they had planned, they meant to move quickly."

oooOOooo

When Agwang saw the slaughtered, butchered bodies, all she could think of was her time with the RUF. How they slaughtered her small village, tearing her from her family, and how she was then forced to do the same so many times over, by her 'husband' (who was in reality nothing more than the strongest rapist).

She ran away to escape all that, but somehow, even here on another planet, death followed her like flies to a rotting corpse. The sheer injustice of it all made her see red, and as a result, almost missed a deep track until she was almost right on top of it.

Some ten feet away from the back of the camp was a damp area, the fault of a low water table. Directly above that were several large clay deposits, creating what looked like a cement ground surrounded by grass. In and of itself, it wasn't that odd, until Agwang saw the imprint of a foot on the edge.

"Big Rig, please come here a moment!" Agwang called out. The large biker heard her, and strolled over.

"How can I help ya, little lady?"

"How much do you weigh?" Agwang asked.

"That ain't polite to ask," Big Rig winked at her playfully, "but about three hundred pounds."

"Would you please step into the mud?" Awgnag nodded towards the clay deposit, "with all your weight, please."

Big Rig didn't ask why. In a situation like this, he figured that any odd request had a good reason. Plus, his boots were had been in worse.

After Big Rig created an imprint, Agwang took a twig, measuring the imprint from the deepest part and notched it where it met the top. She then did the same with a different stick for the other imprint that she found.

"So, what was this all about?" Big Rig asked.

"I found the track of one of the attackers, and compared the depth and thus weight, to yours" Agwang showed Big Rig the twigs, "it's no contest. Theirs is bigger."

oooOOooo

Danny was counting the bodies when he noticed something peculiar. One of the aliens was holding a wet knife, covered in a green substance that gave off a slight glow. Danny checked the alien body (missing its head and spine) and saw that its blood was red, just like his.

A light suddenly went off in Danny's head, and he plucked the knife from the dead creature's hand.

"This is probably about the only good news out here," Danny remarked.

oooOOooo

_Ten minutes later_

"Alright people, what do we know?" Nate, for a brief moment, suddenly felt like he was back in his comfort zone, in a small room comparing intelligence with other experts, and drawing up plans and conclusions.

"That there are some nasty bastards that did this," Big Rig said.

"…besides that," Nate deadpanned.

"We're missing three of them, if they were captured or escaped it's impossible to say," Billy reported, "but of the dead, all save the one we shot, were mutilated post mortem."

"And whoever they are, they are at least twice of the weight of Big Rig," Agwang added.

"It gets better," Nate said, "our unknown enemies used both blade and energy weapons."

"Energy weapons…like in Star Trek?" North asked.

"Yeah, but I doubt they have a stun setting. There are no shell casings, burns that are impossible even with a flame thrower and you can still smell the ozone in the air. And look at the devastation," Nate pointed to a fallen tree, as thick as a telephone pole, laying on its side, burns on both of its broken sides "Plus, there's no way what we saw last night came from projectile weaponry. So yeah, freakin' laser beams."

"Plus, well, hunting dogs," Calvin added, "there are three distinct sets of tracks here. Our alien friends, some four legged beasts and one unknown but heavy set."

Jesse sucked in a sharp breath as he looked upwards, "Everything I learn about this place just makes me want to eat a bullet to save time."

"Anyone have any good news?" Megumi asked flippantly.

"Actually, yeah," Danny showed them the knife with the mysterious green blood, "found this on one of the cat aliens. I think they wounded one of them."

"Well now, that is good news," Billy smiled, "if they bleed, they can die."

"So…do we know enough to finally figure out what the hell is going on?"

For a brief moment, everyone looked at Danny like he'd just admitted he couldn't add two plus two.

"Idiot American," Zeya sneered under his breath.

"Lay off," Nate said, "and since we're all thinking it, we might as well say it and clear the air. What's going on, Danny? We're here for sport. We're meant to be tracked, hunted and killed, and then our skulls taken for trophies."

"What…?" Danny said instinctively. The idea seemed ridiculous at first, but it slowly began to make terrifying sense.

"Look around you," Nate swept his Carbine around like it was a pointer, "you know why these guys were hit first, and why they happened to be so close to us? Because they were smarter than us, and knew the score before we did. They were using us as decoys, as bait to draw out the hunters."

"Decoys? How…?"

"They thought we were going to be hit first by whatever's out there," Nate explained, "we all saw how fast they moved. A half mile is nothing to them, and if they resemble cats in more than just appearance then they could have heard and smelled everything we did. They were going to wait until we were attacked, then kill our attackers. Good plan, if we're being honest.

"But whoever's hunting us was… is a lot smarter than that. So they sent in the dogs, and then mopped up the rest personally. They mutilated corpses, but left one that we mortally wounded alone the entire time. Why? Because they wanted trophies, they wanted a challenge and he wasn't."

Nate looked at every member of his team, "The cages, our weapons? Whoever they are, they want a fight. They want to savor the challenge of the hunt, feel the heat of battle and the thrill of the kill…before they cut us up for a trophy."

Everyone shifted uncomfortably as Nate said what they were all thinking. It was one thing to have suspicions, but facing the undeniable evidence was far harder to handle.

"The most dangerous game," Calvin said in half disbelief, "do you really think someone, or something, went through all the effort of bringing us here just to hunt and kill us?"

"Look around you," replied Nate, "not just at the dead bodies, but at us. All of us, soldiers, mercenaries, gang banger, biker, black ops spy, all armed. We weren't brought here as a cultural exchange program. We're here as prey."

"That…is a distressingly logical explanation," Calvin conceded.

For a brief second, Nate gave Calvin a quick side glance. Now absolutely positive that they were being hunted, Nate couldn't help but wonder why Calvin had been selected. He was old, clearly wasn't a soldier and didn't carry himself like any criminal Nate had ever met, yet still something had brought him to the attention of their kidnappers, something that said to them he would be worthwhile sport. But what could it be?

"…so now what?" North asked, "we know the game, but not the players other than they be bad ass mofos. We still pretty far up shit creek."

"Now we follow the dog tracks back to their camp. We kill or capture whatever we can," Nate stated, "if you got earplugs, put them in now. Safeties off, weapons free. As of now, we need to act like we're in hostile territory, because we are. This is their planet and their rules, not ours."

Big Rig cracked his knuckles, "Not yet."

oooOOooo

There was no conversation, no odd observations, nothing as they followed the tracks. For a little while, Nate could fool himself into thinking into thinking that he was in his comfort zone, working alongside soldiers, launching an assault on an enemy stronghold.

But every time he thought that, Nate reminded himself that even when you knew everything about your target, that still didn't mean your plan survived contact with the enemy. And when the plan included first contact with aliens…

"So what is our plan when we find whoever is responsible?" Ayhum asked softly.

"Capture if possible, or kill," Nate replied, "then see about getting the hell of this planet."

"Well thought out," Ayhum deadpanned.

"If you've got a better suggestion, I'd be happy to hear it. I don't want to play this situation by ear…"

oooOOooo

"_I simply have no choice." _

Two sets of eyes, invisible to the naked eye, watched the eleven men and women as they made their way through the jungle. One, some thirty yards ahead of them, hidden not just by technology but by vines and thick branches far above the ground, allowed what his race considered to be a smile cross his face.

This group had enjoyed good fortune unlike any in recent memory, fortune that they didn't hesitate to capitalize on and exploit, instead of letting it slip by while they watched. Where most prey allowed themselves to be crippled by fear and confusion, they pressed on to learn whatever they could.

Calm, collected and intelligent. They only had to pass only one final test before the creature was confident that they would make a great hunt, and even better trophies.

With the simple press of a button, that test began.

oooOOooo

Calvin heard them first.

They were just about to cross from tree filled forest into a small plane of tall grass (the random topography was fascinating to Calvin) when he heard a growl that sounded like an impossible mix between a lion and a crab.

They stopped ten feet from the clearing, and waited for a moment to confirm they weren't imagining things. A second snarl, accompanied by the crunching of dead leaves and snapping twigs, informed them that what they heard was cold, hard reality. The growl sounded like the angry bark of a hundred pound dog heard through the ear of a ten year old child. Angry, twisted impossible yet all too real.

They only saw the tall grass parting as something rushed towards them, but not what was responsible.

Big Rig dropped Jesse's ammo pack by him and pulled out his revolver. Agwang glanced towards Zeya as he ignited the pilot of his flame thrower, while Billy and Jesse took up a well practiced position. Danny's hand shook as he pointed his Glock, while North simply nodded to his partner Megumi, weapons raised.

Watching the grass part, Nate couldn't help but be reminded of all the old cheesy horror movies, how the fin of a shark would breach the water just before devouring the innocent extra. Nate tried to will himself to remain calm, even as the infamous theme song of 'Jaw' was now echoing around in his skull.

A beast burst from the tall grass, like some unholy combination of a dog, warthog and porcupine burst out of the yellow glass, and into a hail of gunfire and flame.

"We're in hell," Calvin breathed.

Nate squeezed off only three shots before he realized something was wrong. The creature ran right into the wall of bullets without regard for its life or wellbeing, but literally fell to pieces seconds before it reached its prey.

"Only one…" Nate looked away from the pile of mangled animal flesh and back towards the direction it came from.

His heart stopped. He saw one, two…Nate lost count of how many seams of parting grass were raging towards them now.

"Decoy!" Nate screamed, "decoy! Incoming! _Incoming_!"

A dozen, maybe more, burst from the wall of grass like a flood of teeth and fangs.

Zeya scrambled backwards, throwing fire wildly. Danny and Big Rig scrambled to get out of the way, Calvin stood as still as a statue as the animals stampeded by, and Nate and Ayhum scrambled to the edge of the herd.

The dogs didn't stop to attack anyone, amazingly enough. They simply ran up the middle, scattering everyone as they scrambled out of the way of a sheer wave of tooth and fang.

And then the devil dogs broke off into smaller packs, and turned around.

oooOOooo

Billy and Jesse had been in hundreds of combat theaters before today, and luckily for them, instinct took over no matter how terrifying the enemy.

Three of the dog-monsters bore down on them slowly, snarling and spitting the entire time. Jesse kept the creatures back with controlled bursts, but though they seemed to like to approach slow, the fuckers refused to fall down. Jesse was on one knee, looking down the sights of his AR-15 as he swept from one target to another. But it seemed no matter how many shots he put into them, they kept coming like the bullets were little more than sleet. And the others…

"Switched out the ammo," Billy shouted.

Jesse stopped firing and stepped aside, a wicked smile on his face.

"Bring the pain, brutha."

The ammo was a special design of Billy Weather, usually reserved for situations when they were dangerously outnumbered and couldn't risk their opposition getting back up again. Technically speaking, the bullets themselves would be found illegal if Billy ever applied for a patent, so he did everything he could to limit their use. They weren't the most deadly weapons in the Weather's arsenal, but they held a firm second place.

The bullets in his AA-12 were semi-solid slugs, composed of four copper cylinders glued together. The heat of being fired loosened the glue, so that when the bullet struck the target they slid apart on impact, and flattened like hollow point bullets. The effect was like tearing a tunnel through meat and bone, but hollow points, one human body often wasn't enough to stop the slugs.

Billy pulled the trigger once, and hit the first dog dead on. The bullet tore a path from head to spine, and a second later the animal dropped like a pile of bricks.

Billy eliminated the other two in short order, and then scanned the battlefield.

"Shit, we're all over the God damn place!" Billy snapped.

"Worry about it later, we got four more!" Jesse snapped, "I'll set them up, you knock 'em down!"

Billy took aim even as he felt his throat dry. Separated and surrounded by a relentless enemy, as tactical went, there were few worse. He knew that all it would take to finish them was just a little more pressure, a little more push and Billy knew that now was the perfect time for it.

The only question was, where?

oooOOooo

Although the dog-monsters didn't feel pain like they should, that didn't mean they were invulnerable. As Zeya ran his flame thrower over them, the flame caused their eyes popped like soap-bubbles, the membranes in their ears to snap and their noses melt shut.

Blind deaf and dumb, the dogs simply fell over as their brain shut down, but Zeya still focused his flame on the fallen animals. He'd killed five, and while the stench of burning flesh seemed to discourage the others, but Zeya focused on his victims, burning through a quarter of his fuel in pure rage at the beasts that dared attack him.

Agwang stood a few feet away, AK-47 raised but not a shot fired. She realized early on it'd be best to stay close to Zeya, reasoning that his flame thrower would discourage the beasts from attacking him. But watching him torture the animals, watching him cut loose like a maniac, the unwilling former member of the RUF began to have second thoughts.

oooOOooo

Calvin Quinn stood perfectly still, first out of sheer terror, of fear that he had actually died and was now in hell. A few seconds later, his brain took back over, and he remained statue still as the battle raged around him. He watched as Nate and Ayhum struggled to keep three of the monsters back.

"Damn it Cal, run!" Nate spat, only twelve feet away, but in the chaos it might have well been a mile.

Calvin felt like he truly understood the expression 'fog of war'. All around him, people were fighting for their lives against these things, yet none of them noticed how Calvin was left alone.

Still, Calvin realized that if he wanted to survive, he'd have to do more than simply stand in place. He'd have to challenge himself, have to prove himself, and fight.

The thought brought a smile to the old man's face.

Calvin glanced around, and seeing that none of the monsters were looking his way, he pulled out 'The Board of Education'. Calvin doubted that his arrows would be enough to seriously injure these things even if he was able to hit them each and every time.

But the Board of Education? It never failed to cut through a pig in front of twenty impressed students. Granted, those were carcasses, and thus didn't move, didn't fight back and wouldn't maul you if things didn't go exactly as planned but the theory was sound.

Calvin began to move, and on cue one of the creatures turned its head towards him, and with a snarl made its way towards the Teacher.

Calvin plotted a course of action in his mind, one that depended more on luck than any sane person would ever allow but he didn't let that bother him. This was his time to stand up, to prove himself.

The creature leapt towards Calvin, front paws out and jaws open. Calvin stepped to the side and brought the Board swinging downwards as it passed by in the air. It sliced through the hunting dog's front leg with little difficulty, and the beast landed in a heap. The High School Teacher rushed towards the side of the dog, and swept the Board length wide across its rear leg. The swing wasn't enough to remove the beast's leg, but it was more than enough to sever all the important muscles and tendons.

Calvin dropped the Board (it was fine for slicing, but the obsidian edges were still brittle if used wrong), and removed his camping axe. He maneuvered to the front of the creature, a few feet out of reach of its snapping jaws. The beast did all it could to reach Calvin, but with one side hobbled, the only thing left in its arsenal was growling and snapping.

Calvin took a moment to both screw up his courage, and spot an open, and then swung his axe with all his strength, bring it down on the creature's skull. The axe splintered bone and ended the creature almost instantly, but it took Calvin a moment or two to realize what he'd done, what he'd accomplished.

When his brain finally processed what he'd done, Calvin threw his arms up and cheered like a madman.

oooOOooo

Danny dropped his Glock a split second after it clicked empty. He had a reload, but the dog was only three feet from him, and didn't appear inclined to give him a chance to reach it.

His hands flew towards his trench knives. This wasn't the first time he'd had to fight dogs, and though these were at least a hundred pounds bigger than any he'd dealt with in the past, the principles were the same.

Danny hoped and prayed, anyways.

He held the trench knife in his left hand in a reverse grip, and the one in his right in a traditional and just barely brought his arms up in time before the beast tackled him to the ground.

As a general rule, animals went for the throat, and this one was no different. Danny struggled to keep his left arm in place, the trench knife dug into the creature's throat as it tried to tear out his throat, but its strength was overwhelming while its front claws struggled to find purchase on Danny's jacket.

Danny knew he didn't have long before he was torn apart, but the MS13 enforcer wasn't about to go down without a fight. With his free hand, he swung his knife into the monster's throat and began to stab it like a madman.

"Come on, that all you got?" By sheer luck, Danny managed to catch the beast in the eye, and it roared in louder, "come on!"

oooOOooo

Big Rig reached for the Desert Eagle that he kept behind his back as his Revolver spat out six shots, and became useless. Big Rig returned it to its holster and sighted down the barrel of his Desert Eagle on one smooth motion, no stranger to having to swap weapons quickly.

As luck would have it, the two handguns were just enough firepower to kill the two dogs that decided Big Rig was tonight's Blue Plate Special. The second dog died with a slump, and only one bullet left in Big Rig's Desert Eagle.

"A hand cannon with only nine shots," Big Rig grumbled, "that's just not right."

"Come on, that all you got? Come on!"

Big Rig turned his head, and saw Danny on the ground, struggling with one of the dogs.

"Shit!" Big Rig actually dropped his Desert Eagle, and unbuckled the clip that held his 'Chain of Command'.

At first glance, Big Rig's 'Chain of Command' was a simple but still dangerous weapon. A simple stainless steel chain connected to a round metal cylinder little larger than a coke can, weighing ten pounds. That alone was devastating, but what most people didn't know was that the cylinder was actually hollow, and carried an additional four pounds of metal buckshot, filling it half way.

Big Rig wrapped one end of the chain around his wrist moments before he kicked the dog off of Danny. The creature was on its feet in moments, but not quick enough to avoid the other end of the chain. Fourteen pounds of mass, swung by the experienced hand of a muscle bound three hundred pound man crushed the spine's on the creature's back and snapped it's spine like a dry twig.

"You okay kid?" Big Rig grabbed Danny by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Hell no," Danny spat. He motioned towards the torn arm of his jacket, "this thing was a gift from a hot chick. She's gonna kill me, man!"

oooOOooo

Dutch and Megumi, friends and partners for years, needed no words between them to figure out a plan to survive.

Even though Megumi was one of maybe a dozen people on the planet who could fire two guns at once and still hit what she was aiming at, she used only one gun at a time, grouping her shots around the beasts' heads, and used the second only when the first ran out.

When that gun ran dry, North stepped up with his Spaz12. The thing tore apart the beasts, and the few it didn't kill were kept at bay long enough long enough for Megumi to reload.

"Keep moving," North said as Megumi stepped up to provide cover fire for him now.

"We're getting separated from the others!" Megumi warned, as she alternated fire between two of the dog-monsters.

"There's nothing but open forest all around us," North replied, "and we're still close enough for friendly fire and stuck with chumps we've never worked with. Trust me, we keep them in sight, we'll be fine."

"You better be right," Megumi hissed, just as her guns ran empty. North stood a step forward, while she took a step back…and hit something of flesh and metal, that she hadn't see when she looked over her shoulder only seconds before.

oooOOooo

"Can't keep this up," Nate hissed underneath his breath as he slammed a third clip into his Carbine. So far he and Ayhum had killed five if the things, but three still remained.

Everything about the scenario seemed wrong to Nate. The dogs never seemed to stop coming, and they'd be lucky if…

"Ayhum," Nate forced his voice to sound cracked and dry, full of despair. He let his Carbine fall in its strap, and grabbed his side arm. He pulled back the slide, and pressed the gun to his head. Nate closed his eyes, and thumbed back the hammer as he forced tears to fall from his eyes, "I can't go out like this!"

"Nate, you coward don't you dare!" Ayhum shouted as his head snapped back and forth between Nate and the demon dogs, uncertain what to do about either.

Nate tensed, as if ready to pull the trigger, when a high pitched whistle sliced through the roar of battle. The dogs tensed, stopped no matter what they were doing, then as one turned away and ran into the jungle.

"Yeah, you better run!" Danny shouted after them.

"What were you thinking?" Ayhum slapped the gun away from Nate's head, "I have known many Americans to be stupid, but none as cowardly as you!"

"We're here for a reason," Nate turned the gun in his hand, so that Ayhum could see that the safety was on. He then leaned in close to the Iraqi and whispered, "eyes. Not over."

oooOOooo

After any battle, Nate knew that there was a come down, a slight physical crash and physical exhaustion as the body realized it was no longer in danger, and adjusted adrenaline levels accordingly. So he did his best to keep watch, knowing that everyone else was now lowering their guard.

As the de-facto leader, everyone drifted towards him, something he was fine with as he struggled to catch a second wind. Nate suspected half the reason why he was so tired was that his sense of disbelief was shattered in the attack. Those dogs looked like nothing on earth and nothing created by nature. Just what the hell was hunting them?

"Any major injuries?" Nate asked.

"Only thanks to sheer luck," Danny remarked as he looked at his torn up sleeves. He had a few small cuts where the dog's claws had managed to get through, but he'd suffered worse dealing with amateur knife fighters.

"We must be close to their camp," Zeya said, "our approach clearly scared them. We need to move quickly, if we want to win this…!"

Billy and Jesse looked at one another.

"Is he for real?"

"If you want to head off into the jungle, you be my guest," Nate said, "everyone with a brain, lets do a shell and head count. This was just round one, people, and round two is going to be here sooner than we expect."

"Well, ain't that good news," Big Rig mumbled as he reloaded his Revolver.

Danny felt a chill run down his spine as he slapped his only spare clip into his Glock. As much as he preferred an up close and personal fight (no bystanders at risk), he was quickly coming to appreciate long distance combat.

"We're missing someone," Calvin said suddenly, "the gentleman by the name of North, and the young Asian woman, Megumi."

"Could they have been killed?" Agwang asked.

"Possible," Ayhum conceded, "but unlikely, I think. They attacked us as a test, to take our measure. Killing us in the middle of the attack would defeat the purpose."

"We need to know one way or the other," Nate said, "lets sweep the area. Stay alert, stay sharp."

oooOOooo

It was Billy who found Megumi, sprawled out on the ground, dead creatures all around and an ugly knot on her head. The Mercenary sighed out a breath of relief he wasn't aware he'd even been holding when he saw that she was still breathing.

"Over here!" Billy set aside his AA12, and knelt down, "Come on girl, this is no place to be taking a nap."

Billy shook her a little, trying to rouse her while the others rushed towards them.

"Is she okay?" Agwang asked.

"Looks like she got walloped hard," Billy replied. He slapped her gently, trying to wake her up, "up and at them, soldier!"

"North…," Megumi muttered as her eyes fluttered, and she came back to reality, "where's North?"

"We don't know," Nate answered, "we came across you first. Do you remember anything?"

"We were…ambushed," Megumi rubbed her head, trying to clear the cobwebs, "sucker punched, don't remember anything else."

"_Meg…help…" _

Nate felt a chill run down his spine as he heard North's voice, haggard and pain wracked. Everyone turned their heads in the direction of the voice, and saw North slumped on his knees, two hundred yards away, his back towards them. He was surrounded by an island of ivy and leaves and only five feet in front of an ancient, giant tree.

Nate was certain the man hadn't been there minutes before. But there he was, now in the perfect position to ambush any rescuers.

Nate swallowed hard.

"North!" Megumi took off in a sprint towards her partner before anyone could stop her.

"Damn it!" Nate snapped as he turned and raced after her, "someone stop her!"

Danny raced ahead of everyone, and caught up with Megumi in seconds. He grabbed the back of her holsters, and yanked, hard. The two of them fell to the ground in a tangle of bodies, barely a dozen yards away from her partner.

"You have one second to explain before I shoot you," Megumi pressed her gun to Danny's temple.

"Hey, when someone tells me to tackle a girl, who am I to refuse?" Danny joked, eying the gun pointed at his head.

"You stupid little…"

"It's a trap," Nate explained when he caught up, "your friend's surrounded by ivy, perfect cover for landmines, bear-traps or anything else you want to hide."

Megumi looked at North, slumped over, unmoving, but calling out for help, and then to Nate. So far the man hadn't led them astray, but…

"Prove it."

Nate grabbed a large spare branch, and tossed it in the ivy. Out of seemingly nowhere, two blades appeared and began to slice the branch up like a professional chef slicing carrots.

"Holy crap," Big Rig muttered.

"Good trap," Zeya conceded.

"What now?" Ayhum asked.

"_Please, help_…" North's voice droned. The robotic tone did nothing for the group's nerves.

"What now?" Megumi snapped, "now we save him!"

"It's obvious that…" Ayhum stopped talking when Megumi pressed her gun to his throat.

"He's not dead!"

"He's done," Zeya made a point of subtly directing his flame thrower towards Megumi, "we cannot help him. We leave him, right?"

Nate gritted his teeth. He could feel everyone's eyes boring into his back.

"No one gets left behind," Nate said, finally, "not like this. Big Rig, Danny, go find us some more branches. I want to test that thing, see how it reacts. Billy, Jesse, I need to tell you something. Everyone else, keep watch."

Nate placed a reassuring hand on Megumi's shoulder, looked her straight in the eye, and lied, "It'll be okay. We're getting him back."

"What up, boss?" Jesse asked.

Nate motioned for them to step aside from the group, and then brought the Brothers in for a huddle.

"D.R.O.N easy I think," Nate said, "we na-zi, but think N.E.A.R. You need toilet for us. Stand?"

The Brothers looked at one another, and then to Nate.

"Guatemala?" Billy asked.

"Eighty seven, yea," Nate answered.

"We in deep now. We got it," Everyone took a deep breath, and broke the huddle.

"We found some branches and rocks," Danny said as Nate came back, "hope that's okay."

"Lets find out," Nate picked up a rock the size of a coke bottle, and tossed it into the ivy. Just like with the branch, two blades appeared out of nowhere and sliced the rock in two as if it were made of bread.

"That's amazing," Calvin said despite himself.

"Yeah, real fucking fascinating!" Megumi spat, "that's my friend out there, you detached fuck!"

"Stow it!" Nate snapped. He picked up a two foot long branches, and threw them opposite the rock. Nate noted how the blades took them apart one first, then took apart the second.

"Alright, everyone step back," Nate ordered as he picked up another two branches, "Billy? Grenade, second."

Billy nodded.

Nate threw the sticks, and just like before blades came out of the bushes to slice them into small twigs. Billy pulled the pin on one of his concussion grenades, tossed it just inches away from the approaching blades and then hit the ground.

"Down!"

The explosion was small, but powerful. Anyone watching would have seen the metal blades that had sliced rock go floating through the air, but everyone was hugging the ground.

"Think we got it?" Jesse asked.

"Probably," Nate answered, "but we should be careful, there might be more…"

"_Help_…"

"North!" Megumi ran past them and into the ivy, not stopping until she was by her friend's side. When Megumi reached her friend, she saw blood dripping down his mouth, and a deep, deep cut across his throat. Megumi had seen and caused enough death to know her friend was long passed.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" Megumi screamed as she broke down crying on the shoulder of her best friend.

"Now I know we in some sort of bad movie," Jesse muttered as he scanned the treetops, "black guy always dies first."

"Already dead," Ayhum observed as he approached, "clever tactics, we risk resources for someone who can't be reclaimed."

"Yeah," Nate went to where the grenade had exploded, and examined the ground. In short order, he found a round metal disk, seamless on top (except where the grenade had torn away the metal) and red glass underneath, looking almost like a traffic light, "excellent tactic, actually. Just one flaw. Billy? Jesse?"

The Brothers didn't say a word. Both their weapons were armed with rocket launchers, and neither of them had been used. The two Brothers took aim, angling high, and pulled the trigger.

The rockets blasted through the air and exploded high up, dislodging branches and leaves. Before anyone could question why the Brothers had done what they'd done, they were an animalistic growl and saw…something, crashing only ten feet away from North's cooling body.

"What the hell…?"

Everyone squinted their eyes, thinking it was just a trick of the mind. The way branches and leaves were distorted behind a humanoid figure looked too unreal to be real.

But when they saw electricity arcing in midair, revealing patches of leathery skin and sleek metal, all doubt evaporated. Calvin, Danny and Agwang took a step back in shock, and gripped their weapons tight.

It stood seven feet tall easily, menacing metal helmet that betrayed nothing but red eyes, lizard like skin and armor unlike anything they had seen before. The creature was a terrifying contradiction, its physical form conveyed a primal threat, clawed hands, muscles more impressive than most bodybuilders and a size that dwarfed the biggest of humans, while its helmet, armor and cloak spoke of technology generations more advanced than anything on earth.

"You have to stick around if you want the trophies from the kill," Nate aimed his Carbine, "they've had eyes on us a while now. Remember how I said we were brought here as prey? Everyone…"

"Say hello our predator."

Next: Everyone says hello


	5. Chapter 5

Predators 2

Modern Prey

Act Four

ooOOoo

"Say hello to our predator."

Nate, in his long career as a spy for the United States, had been in the same room with terrorists, sociopaths and warlords hundreds of times. Though he never enjoyed being in the presence of people who would be willing to kill him if they saw the slightest advantage in his death, he eventually learned to deal with it as just another fact of life. After a while, meeting with a man who commanded a hundred men to discuss the elimination of mutual enemies was just another business meeting. Nate was never careless with his life, but he came to see the risk of death as just another occupational hazard, and soon meeting a man who'd beaten his last aide to death for burning his coffee for dinner was just another business meeting.

But now, staring down the sights of his carbine at what had up until now been a Special Forces myth, Nate felt that queasy feeling in his stomach and that gut wrenching fear that reminded him that for all the fights he'd won, all the men he'd killed, that he was just a man, out of his depth and would die just like anyone else if things went wrong.

And the thing he was at now was anything but human.

"Nobody fire!" Nate shouted, trying his best to keep the fear out of his voice, "we need a hostage!"

"That is up to it," Ayhum replied.

"He doesn't look like the kind of guy to go peacefully," Danny muttered.

A bead of sweat trickled down Nate's face. He could tell most everyone else was still in shock, trying to comprehend the fact that they were facing an honest to God alien warrior, to even think of disobeying him, but Nate knew from experience the thread of discipline that was holding them back was a thin one.

This wasn't his first Mexican Stand-Off. In Nate's experience, they were like volcano's, once the pressure starts building, the first sign of stress would be followed by a devastating explosion.

As for the alien creature itself, the 'Predator', Nate could sense how it was trying to evaluate the situation. Nate suspected that these things were more used to drawing their prey in, and choosing their moment to reveal themselves. Now forced out into the open by himself (Nate was certain he had partners), the Predator had to decide how to proceed. As Nate saw it, the options going through his head were either to try to escape…or kill them all and risk the displeasure of his partners.

While Nate didn't imagine that they'd be happy that their friend stole all their kills, he also couldn't be certain that the Predator would consider that in a fight for his life. After all, while they might kill him later, the people in front of him would kill him now.

"Down on the ground!" Nate barked, waving his Carbine downward. He knew the thing understood English, but how fluent it was he had no way of knowing. Body language would have to do, "now! I will fire!"

Nate watched as the Predator cocked its head to the side, and let slip a growl that sounded almost like a cat's purr filtered through a crocodile. Somehow, it was only then that Nate observed that the beast had a necklace of severed fingers, only one of them happened to be human.

"It keeps clenching its fist," Agwang observed softly, "why is it doing that?"

To control the raging maelstrom of terror swirling in his gut, Nate decided to name this mysterious Predator 'Pinkie'. The half chuckle it stirred in his stomach allowed prevented Nate from vomiting in terror.

_Keep laughing and you might survive this_, the Spy thought to himself.

"Don't think it's listening, hoss," Big Rig remarked, 'Pinkie' in his crosshairs, "how about we just light this fucker up and call it a day?"

Nate was about to reply, when he saw Megumi rise to her feet, and instantly knew the situation was only seconds away from going to hell.

"You sick son of a bitch!" Megumi, Beretta in each hand, raised her weapons and unleashed a hail of bullets and profanity unlike anything the odd collection of soldiers and criminals had ever seen.

In Nate's experience, firing a gun in each hand while firing was the stuff of action films and idiots. Firing both at once meant you lost the ability to actually aim, wasted ammunition you would certainly need to save your life in the next few seconds and leave yourself wide open to attack.

But in his time as a spy, he'd also learned that there were exceptions to every rule.

Megumi's grouping was excellent, to say the least. Nate guessed about eighty percent of her shots struck home. He saw the tell-tale sparks as the bullets bounced off the creature's armor, and how it stumbled back when bullets slammed into its legs and chest. If Nate hadn't seen it himself, he never would have believed it.

But when Nate heard the –click!- of her guns as they silenced, he realized that as impressive as the display of marksmanship and skill that it was, they now had a serious problem.

One, the bullets seemed to only inconvenience the creature. Nate saw wounds, but the thing was still standing, and what's more, looked pissed.

Two, in her fury, Megumi had inadvertently stepped into their line of fire.

"Damn it woman, move!" Ayhum shouted, but it was already too late.

The distance between Megumi and the Predator was less than three meters, practically point blank range to anyone with combat experience.

The odd collection of warriors watched helplessly as a device on the monster's shoulder began to spin, and spat out a bolt of lightning that hit Megumi in her center mass and threw her backwards and she landed like a limp doll, a smoldering hole in her chest.

Having now actually seen the power of their enemy, see what it was casually capable of, Nate, Ayhum, virtually every froze like a deer in headlights. Even as a three red dots came out of the monster's helmet and began crawling its way up from Nate's chest, no one moved much more than a nervous muscle. The impossibility of their situation had crashed into reality, and their wits struggled to recover.

Nate closed his eyes as he felt the targeting dot come to a rest on his head, accepting his death on this alien world.

But before the Predator's shoulder cannon could spit death once more, there was a whistle that cut through the air, and the creature staggered. Nate took a step back, his brain having finally pushed aside the sheer terror and disbelief that had frozen him in his tracks, and turned his head to see Calvin firing an arrow directly at the monster, adding it to two already in the thing.

"Some help?" Calvin said, half joking, half terrified.

Nate brought up his Carbine, "Open fire! Open fire!"

Automatic fire ripped through the air with such force that, for a moment, no one heard the familiar that sliced through the air. The Predator tore Calvin's arrows from his body, and with speed better than any NFL linebacker, ran into the brush.

"After him, now!" Nate shouted over his shoulder. He was about to chase after it when he saw Ayhum leveling his rifle at him. Nate didn't even have time to curse as Ayhum pulled the trigger…and sank five bullets into the head of one the dog monsters.

"Son of a bitch!" Nate spat as he looked around the battlefield, now littered with fresh corpses of these monsters. He suddenly realized that the creature was recalling his hounds via hand signals in his wrist devise, and he'd made a rookie mistake of focusing too much on one target during a fight to the exclusion of all else.

And now, he and his people were surrounded, Big Rig and Danny were nowhere to be seen, while the only source of information, bargaining chip and enemy, all rolled into one, was making a clean escape.

oooOOooo

Agwang loaded her last clip, hands trembling, as three more dogs were bearing down on her. She had barely begun to take aim, when a wave of severing hot flame not less than three feet away shot past her, and struck one of the dogs in the face.

"You don't scare me!" Zeya shouted as he unleashed more and more flame upon the ungodly creatures.

Agwang muttered the worse profanity she knew, and stepped aside as the Burmese soldier unleashed his bloodlust. If he didn't care about who else he might burn, then why should she care about his life?

oooOOooo

"I'm out," Jesse reported as he set down his AR-15 as gently and quickly as possible. A chill went down his spine, as ever since his brother had modified the thing, he'd rarely ever run out of ammo this quickly in a combat situation.

"I've got half a drum," Billy reported calmly. Only two dogs were left, but that was still to mess up their whole day, "and we're bleeding ammo here. I'm going to use the super shorty!"

Jesse swung his MK-12 rifle around and took aim. The dogs approached slowly, growling and hissing the entire time, "Why the hell are you gonna use that thing?"

"I have a theory," Billy replied as he unstrapped the compact shot gun and took aim, "hey you sons of bitches, Avon's calling!"

In law enforcement, Avon rounds are traditionally filled with water and wax, used for destroying hinges without danger to anyone else in hostile situations, and thus the nick-name 'Avon'. As mercenaries who often found themselves involved in urban combat, the Weather Brothers found themselves in need of breaching rounds. Only the doors they needed breached were often reinforced and more often than not, happened to have more than a handful of well armed hired guns on the other side.

So to deal with that, Billy created his own special 'Avon rounds', filled with copper silvers, napalm gel and a few other secret ingredients, Billy's special Avon rounds were the stuff of nightmares.

Billy took aim at the closest beast, and squeezed the trigger. A brief blast of flame came blasting out, scorching the creature's jaws, but that was nothing compared to the agony caused when the small copper bits struck its skin. Superheated by the flame, they burned their way into the flesh like a match through tissue, and remained there, radiating agonizing pain.

With a single shot, Billy turned away one dog, one creature that up until now had faced bullets, blades and every other kind of weapon undaunted. He almost felt sorry as he took aim at the second one.

However, he had no sympathy for the person responsible for all this.

"Where is that ugly bastard?" Billy mused aloud through gritted teeth.

oooOOooo

Daniel raced after the alien as fast as his legs would carry him. 'Pinkie' was damned fast, faster than Danny could ever hope to be, but in a short sprint Danny could at least keep up. The thick woods helped too, as something of the alien's size had a hard time breaking into a dead run, whereas Danny had plenty of experience running through narrow passages, from years of eluding cops and rival gang members in the projects

But that slim edge wouldn't hold out forever, Danny knew. So he reached into his pocket, and withdrew a two pound throwing knife. Hitting a target while in a dead run wasn't the easiest thing to do, but Danny had a little practice, and with a powerful heave, let the knife fly.

He was aiming for Pinkie's back. But his throw was a little low and to the left, and instead the knife sank into the back thigh of the creature's leg, and sent it stumbling to the ground in a heap.

Danny came to a quick, skittering stop, and despite himself, smiled. He'd seen dozens of scary movies, and in them, the monster never once tripped, stumbled or was anything but a silent and graceful force of death and destruction. Watching the alien fall like a sack of bricks reassured Danny that this thing wasn't some demon from the pit, an untouchable boogieman but a flesh and blood creature, and thus fallible.

Mortal.

Killable.

But then, the Predator rose up like a heavy weight boxer from his chair, and Danny felt his five foot nothing height very acutely as the alien towered over him from so far away.

Acting on instinct, yet against common sense, Danny grabbed his trench knives, took a calming breath, and waited.

The former Gang Enforcer expected to be killed outright. He expected a laser to the brain, for bringing a knife to a gun fight. He expected his death to be the punch line of a bad alien joke, and realized far too late that when he chased after the alien, that he didn't have a single clue what he'd do if he caught it.

But instead, he watched in amazement as a jagged blade unsheathed from the devise on the Predator's right wrist. Danny stared for a moment, baffled how such a long blade could be hidden in such a small devise, but only for a moment. He was here, as was the blade.

That's all he needed to know.

"Okay, so this is how it's gonna be?"

Danny scanned the terrain for a split second. They were in a small ten foot clearing, surrounded by tall, ancient trees. In his experience, who won a fight depended on a combination of factors, and right now the terrain looked like it would be a neutral player, "okay, lets go then."

The two combatants began to circle one another. Danny tried to subtly place his enemy between him and the direction they'd come from, while the Predator growled, and studied Danny's stance.

As he did that, Danny studied him. Pinkie was bleeding like a stuck pig, but to Danny's experienced eyes, either the wounds weren't too deep, or the thing really knew how to ignore pain. It had a bullet hole on its left leg, a few tears on its upper chest and leaking green blood all over the place, but he moved effortlessly and seemingly pain free.

Five seconds passed, before Danny decided to go on the offensive. Given the massive size and weight differential, the last thing Danny wanted to be was the defensive.

Brandishing his knives, he rushed in. Pinkie swung his blade with the intent of decapitating Danny, but the young enforcer was just a second quicker than expected, and slipped under the swing of the blade, and lashed out with a snap kick that connected perfectly to the bullet wound in the Predator's leg.

This time, Danny saw the Predator actually flinch while it growled in pain, and he took his opening. He ducked in, and unleashed a combination of rabbit punches mixed with rapid stabbing.

He slammed his left trench knife, and the blades that covered his fist, into his enemy's stomach while he angled the blade in his right hand forward, and just stabbed the hell out of the Predator as quickly as possible.

Danny bounced backwards like a heavy weight boxer after only four seconds, his heart hammering in his ears and his blades soaked in alien blood.

To his amazement, Pinkie was still standing, though a river of green blood was flowing out of his belly even faster now. Danny knew from experience that what he'd just done would have at least crippled any human being, if not outright killed them, but this thing was still standing, and worse, was **pissed.**

"Oh crap."

This time, Pinkie charged, blade held outward. Danny scrambled, and just barely ducked in time to keep his head. But before the Predator could bring his arm back to make another swing, Danny dug in his heels, slamming the palm of his right hand into the creature's wrist as best he could, trapping the arm against the alien's body, and then began punching him with the trench blade in his left hand, cutting through alien flesh and muscle at the elbow, hoping to sever the tendons and render the arm useless.

Unfortunately for him, his enemy was even stronger than he looked. Pinkie swept up and outwards with his blade arm, and pitched Danny through the air like a bundle of paper towels.

Danny flew a few feet through the air, before landing in a painful heap. The young member of MS13 knew to tuck his head and go limp from experience, but other than that there was no real way to take a throw like that painlessly.

As he hit the ground, Danny silently resigned himself to death. In a fight, in a real world fight on the street and for your life, there were precious few rules. But there was one rule of cause and effect that never failed.

Once the other guy put you on the ground, you were dog meat. And if that person had a couple of hundred pounds and vast physical superiority? Put a fork in you, you were done.

Danny climbed to his feet more out of habit than a desire to survive, expecting to be beheaded like a chicken each and every second. When he finally reached a standing position, he was baffled to see the alien standing still across from him, blade still expended, body language tense but reserved.

It took Danny a few seconds to remember where he'd seen anything like it. It came to him in a flash, thanks to cheesy Asian movies a one-time roommate always watched. In a lot of them, there was always a scene where one Samurai would take a step back after landing a nasty hit, respectfully allowing his enemy a moment to recover and catch his breath before they continued..

To Danny, survivor of dozens of fights, it was the dumbest thing he could imagine. If you got an opening in a fight, you grabbed it like it was the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. Politeness in a fight to the death was like was like giving a gun to your enemy. But then, given how badly outmatched he was, Danny knew he needed any edge just to stay alive.

"So this is a duel, huh?" Danny asked as he brought up his knives, "well, that's the way you want to play it, hombre?"

"Your mistake."

The Predator was only a moment away from attacking when the heavy end of the 'Chain of Command' came smashing down on his plasma caster. As strong as the alien was, not even he could just shrug off ten pounds of steel swung by three hundred pounds of muscle. What would have utterly destroyed the shoulder of any human simply dislocated its shoulder and smashed its shoulder cannon beyond all repair.

"Hey ugly!"

Big Rig swung the weight again, this time bringing it down on Pinkie's head with a loud metallic –clang!-, that brought the Hunter to his knees.

"I'm going to crack this nut open!" Big Rig growled as he bent down, and wrapped his chain around the Predator's neck. Pulling the chain tight around the alien's neck, Big Rig began to quickly back-peddle, as his enemy struggled to get his feet underneath him as he gasped for breath.

Big Rig came to a tree twice as thick as a telephone pole, and swung the alien head first into it, "Knock knock!"

Big Rig swung again, pulling the chain even tighter around the Predator's neck. With only one hand with which to fight back, the alien struggled to get his fingers around the chain, and getting his feet underneath him seemed all but impossible.

"Who's there!"

Big Rig smashed the alien face first into the tree, again.

"An ugly!"

Again, with more strength than Big Rig ever allowed himself to use on another man.

"Alien!"

Again.

"Mother!"

Again.

"Fucker!"

Again.

"Yeah, Big Rig! Whup that alien ass!" Danny shouted as she sprinted towards his friend, pumping his fist in the air as the Biker battered the alien. But Danny's heart fell a second later, as he saw the exact moment the worm turned.

The alien managed to get plant its feet on the ground for a split second, and then pushed backwards. The metal of its helmet caught Big Rig right in the mouth, and Pinkie then swung his elbow backwards, catching the Biker in his chest.

Big Rig went down like a sack of bricks, and despite himself, Danny just froze. He watched in still terror as the Predator grabbed its arm and popped it back into the socket without so much as a grunt, treating a dislocated arm as casually and effortlessly as one might scratch an itch.

And when the alien raised the arm that held the oversized dueling blade, and took aim at Danny, he knew their little sword/knife fight was over. The bastard was finally tired of screwing around, and the MS13 member knew he didn't have long to live.

But seconds before the Predator could send his blade flying, Danny heard a shot, and saw the monster's hand jerk sideways seconds before it launched the blade.

A few more shots rang out, and both man and monster turned their head to see everyone else racing towards them, Nate in the lead with his carbine raised.

The Predator roared in anger and frustration, and then turned and ran, disappearing into the brush.

"Shiiit…" Danny took a deep breath as the others joined his side.

"You are one lucky young man," Calvin observed.

"You two okay?" Nate asked as he looked around, "any injuries, can you move?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy," Big Rig coughed, as he lay on the jungle floor, "nothin' broken hoss, but I'ma gonna lie here for a few minutes more. That fucker knows how to hit."

"Knows how to bleed too," Danny picked up a large leaf, and began wiping off the green blood from his knives, "what I did to it would have killed anyone from back home, but I think if it weren't for Big Rig, I'd be in pieces on the jungle floor."

"Why didn't it just kill you?" Ayhum asked incredulously, "with that cannon, killing you would have been like swatting a fly!"

"It wanted to savor the kill," Agwang said softly, "a gun would be too quick, too easy. So they only use it when they have to."

"What the hot chick said," Danny shrugged, "the thing had me dead to rights when it knocked me on my ass, but it just waited for me to get back up."

"We should press our advantage!" Zeya snapped, "it's wounded and fleeing, and it's dogs are dead! It will never be this vulnerable again!"

"Or desperate," Nate countered, "the hardware it was wearing was enough to hold all of us back, I don't want to think about what it has back at its camp. Cornered rats are always the most dangerous, Zeya."

"Because they know their time has come!" Zeya pointed his flame thrower at Nate, "you are a coward and a fool, and you'll get us killed! We need to attack now!"

"Lower your weapon please," Nate said in a polite, almost friendly tone, "and calm down."

"You are not my commanding officer!" Zeya spat.

"We've already lost two people, and I don't want to lose any more," Nate nodded towards the side of Zeya, and the young Burmese soldier saw how Ayhum and Billy both had him dead to rights, "but it's not much of a loss if the person can't control themselves, now is it?"

Zeya silently lowered his weapon.

"But you are right, at least a little bit," Nate conceded, "we need to figure out what to do next. Do we follow it, or find a place to hole up?"

"I say follow," Jesse stated, "but I ain't feeling it, to be honest. Who knows what kind of toys he has at his camp? Hell, for all we know he was just a scout!"

"I think we should run," Agwang suggested, "find some place to set up camp, fortify it, and draw him to us. Otherwise, no matter what, we fight on his terms, not ours."

"Yeah, but we don't even know if we'll find a decent place!" Danny countered.

"Withdrawing is the best option. Their camp is surrounded by secondary traps, is on low ground, and there are two more of the monsters, just as well armed. It'd be a slaughter."

"How could you know that…?" Nate turned his head towards the voice, and to his horror realized all at once that he saw nothing and didn't recognize the voice. Within seconds, everyone had their weapons out, hunting for the source of the voice.

"Over here, heh heh…" the voice whispered like a ghost, "no, over here!"

"Shit, shit shit!" Jesse scanned the area quickly through the scope of his rifle as sweat beaded down his head. Out in the open like this, with no idea where to run, he couldn't think of an easier target.

In contrast, Calvin had his head down as he scanned the area. And when he found what he was looking for, he notched an arrow, and pointed.

"Over here!" Calvin called out, "look at the grass, over here!"

"Hold your fire!" Nate shouted as he swung his carbine and pointed it at the same area Calvin was pointing his bow. A quick glance downward, and Nate saw what Calvin was talking about. Grass that was supposed to be six inches tall was crushed to the ground in a manner that vaguely resembled a foot print, "alright asshole, show yourself, nice and slow!"

For the second time in one day, Nate watched as someone appear out of thin air, as arcs of electricity revealed another player from the jungle. Almost immediately, Nate saw how this one was different from the first. Skinnier, smaller, and his armor appeared to be a patch-work of material, rather than the sleek, form fitting metal of the first alien.

And the AA-12 with camo paint pointed at his chest was a far cry from the weapon the first one unleashed on them.

"…what the fuck are you?" Nate asked.

"Heh, heh, heh," the warrior chuckled as he reached up, and removed his helmet.

"What am I?"

Everyone took a step back as the man's face was revealed. Not in fear, but in shock at seeing another human wearing the weapons and armor they had just seen on an alien.

"I'm on your side," smirked Royce.

Next issue: Calvin's secret revealed. A funeral. Refuge.


	6. Chapter 6

Predators Act 5

"I'm on your side," Royce smirked.

As he saw the stunned expressions playing around the group's faces, Royce just cocked his head, "What, you didn't think you were the first group dropped on this FUBAR shit hole? The fifth? The twentieth? Hell, they're probably in the hundreds by now. Name's Royce, and I was dumped here a while before you. I killed the bastards responsible, but I haven't been able to find a way off since then."

"Ain't that a pleasant thought," Big Rig muttered. Something about a world littered with the bones of dead warriors made him shudder.

"And have you been following us?" Nate asked.

"Picked up your trail twelve hours ago actually," Royce replied, "you got lucky those cat things were attacked first. But this isn't the place to get into that. I've got food and shelter for anyone who wants it. If not, you can stay here, or keep on marching, I don't give a damn what."

Everyone, consciously or otherwise, looked towards the spy.

"Alright," Nate said, "if you're offering, we'll follow. Try anything, and we'll shoot first and to hell with any questions."

"Sounds fair. Just one last detail to take care of then," said Royce. He aimed his AA-12 squarely as Calvin's chest and looked down the sight, "okay old man, I want to know why you're here, and I want to know now."

"Hey!" Big Rig pulled back the hammer on his revolver and leveled it at Royce, "you point that cannon somewhere else, or I put one between your eye and fuck your so-called help."

"You do that, you better prepare for the great beyond yourself," Royce nodded towards a little red dot that was resting over Big Rig's heart.

"Sniper!" Ayhum hissed.

Nate could feel everyone tense, even as no one dared move. There was nothing worse in the field than knowing that you were in the crosshairs of a sniper. Just the thought caused a soldier's natural paranoia to skyrocket, which only made them vulnerable to the enemy. It was one thing to face a hail of bullets in battle, flying every which way, but quite another to know that there was a bullet out there that had taken your snapshot.

"No way you cap us all before we get you," Danny warned as he gripped his blade.

"Look at yourselves," Royce hissed, like an angry teacher speaking to school children, "gangbanger, biker, insurgent, mercenary and what? _Grandpa_?"

Calvin received a few uncomfortable glances, and felt his throat run dry as everyone began to scrutinize him.

"You people can't be that stupid. We were brought here because those alien bastards saw who and what we were on earth. I got blindsided by a serial killer first time out of the gate, and I'll be damned if that happens again."

"Now look here…" Calvin said defensively, as he saw the others began looking at him with suspicion, "I…I have never done anything to warrant…"

"Confession time, old man," Royce's tone was steel, and he pressed the barrel of his gun to Calvin's throat, "or walk away, right now. Frankly, I don't care which, but every second you delay is more time that monster has to get back to its friends."

"Stand down!" Nate leveled his Carbine at Royce's head, "you point that gun some other direction and you do it now!"

"…Nate," Ayhum saw how the laser sight shifted from biker to spy. Instinctively, he pointed his weapon at Royce, their only bargaining chip in this situation.

"Things are getting ugly," Royce observed casually, "all you have to do is confess, and we can avoid any unfortunate misunderstandings."

"Lower the weapon!"

"Nate, he still has a sniper!" Ayhum warned.

"Alright, everyone calm down!" Billy implored as Jesse searched for the sniper.

"Tick…"

"I bombed an abortion clinic!" Calvin blurted, silencing everyone, "…I blew up a clinic, and since then I was hiding in the woods, avoiding a Federal manhunt. I didn't mean to…I didn't think that…"

"Yeah, really don't care," Royce interrupted as he lowered his weapon and brushed past Calvin, and looked towards Nate, "we need to see to the people you lost, get their supplies and move. There's no telling when that thing will get back to its camp, or how the others will react to you flushing him out."

"Their bodies ain't even cold yet, man," Jesse said in disgust.

"He's right," Nate defended, though he refused to break eye contact with Royce, "but that doesn't mean we have to be animals about it. Danny, help me with the bodies. Calvin, I'm going to need your help clearing out the brush. Everyone else, grab a handful of loose wood."

"We're going to burn the bodies?" Zeya asked, "why even bother? They're dead! You heard the man, we should leave immediately!"

"We're going to give them as much respect as we can," Nate replied, "because the next body to hit the ground could be you. And I think you'd want us to treat your body with as much respect as possible, yes?"

Zeya said nothing.

"And besides, if these things come back with dogs, I think the stench of burning flesh might at least mask ours, possibly slow them down. At this rate, I'll take any edge we can get."

They worked as fast as the situation allowed. Nate pulled Megumi's still smoldering corpse and laid it across from her friend, North. Nate knelt down, and closed Megumi's eyes, as he said a silent prayer.

Then he looked across at Danny, nodded, and proceeded to loot their corpses for anything of value.

They took matches, spare shells, back-up knives, loose cash, shoe laces and even socks. Everything and anything they thought they might be useful and easily carried, they took. There were too few resources for anyone to feel too much shame.

As Nate and Danny searched the corpses, most everyone else began to pile up wood around the bodies., as quickly as they could. They stopped for a brief moment as Isabelle strolled out of the foliage, but continued working.

"An Israeli," Ayhum remarked as soon as she was within earshot.

"Got a problem with that?" asked the sniper.

"Actually, it's a relief," Ayhum dropped a bundle of branches, "war is your people's greatest area of expertise."

Isabelle allowed the comment to roll off her shoulders like water off a duck, as she walked towards Nate. She had developed a thick skin long before she was abducted to play prey for alien hunters.

"You must be Royce's friend," Nate somehow managed to sound both chipper and deadpanned in the same sentence, "you got a name?"

"Isabelle," she replied, as she reached into her jacket. She pulled out a cut-off sock that was tied closed with a shoe string, "here, this is gun powder. For your friends."

"Thank you," Nate said softly, as he took the gunpowder.

"Nate, we're good," Jesse reported.

"Alright, everyone stand back."

Nate sprinkled the gunpowder, some on the wood around their bodies and some on their dead bodies themselves. The spy told himself that it would be enough to cremate their bodies, enough to give them some basic, final respect and that he wasn't just doing it in the hope that the smell of their burning body fat and dead branches might make it a little more difficult for the aliens dogs to find them.

"…anyone have something they would like to say?" Billy asked.

Silenced hung in the air like a cloud. Most of these men and women were so accustomed to death in their everyday lives that unless it was someone they knew personally, it affected them no more than the day's weather. To them, death was a simple everyday occupational hazard that they had long since accepted.

"There's not much to say," Nate started, so that everyone could hear, "but North, Megumi, if you can hear me, I want you to know that when we get home, I will track down your friends and family, and let them know what happened here. You will not simply vanish from your loved one's lives. You have my word."

There was a moment of silence, as Nate lit a match, and lit the funeral pyre. Flames leapt into the air, and began consuming the bodies. After a moment of silence, the band of warriors turned to where Royce and Isabelle were waiting.

"You said you knew some place safe?" Nate asked.

"As safe as anything can be on this planet," Royce replied, "but if we do this, I expect everyone to follow my orders to the letter."

Nate glanced at his people, then to Royce and Isabelle.

"Fair enough."

"Okay then," Royce took a few steps forward, "alright everyone, we've got to cover about three miles of harsh terrain in the next hour. It's a long hard slog, and you do what I say, when I say or I will shoot you. First order of business is that you have to piss or anything related, you do it now, here. These things can track us by scent, and we are not giving them a neon sign to follow."

"If they can track by smell, aren't we already screwed?" Danny walked towards a bush as he unbuckled his pants. He didn't much like Royce even if he was helping them, but he could see the logic, "little piss isn't gonna matter anyways."

"You'll just have to trust me," Royce replied, "we'll be taking the scenic route, and you'd be amazed at the type of plants that grow in this jungle."

oooOOooo

They marched through the woods in silence. Nate watched Royce carefully as the man navigated the overgrowth almost carelessly.

Nate quickened his pace until he was walking alongside Royce. Isabelle gave him a brief, suspicious look, but it soon passed and she fell behind the two. Nate was certain she was ready to stab him in the back at the first sign of betrayal, but Nate took it in stride.

You didn't survive alien hunters by being careless, after all.

"We're leaving a trail a two year old could follow," Nate said softly.

"Yup," Royce said simply, "can't be helped."

"Tell me you have an idea for losing them."

"I do," Royce said curtly.

"And if it doesn't work? Do you have a back-up plan?"

"Yeah. We die as we get picked off one by one and take our skulls for trophies," Royce deadpanned.

"Well, as long as it's a plan," the spy replied with a shrug. In every combat situations he'd ever been in, there was always a back-up plan, a fall back option of last resort. Mercenary, soldier, spy, it didn't matter. If you dealt in violence or the potential of violence, you factored failure of your first option into your plans. It didn't matter if you had every advantage, perfect intelligence or even no intentions of violence. No plan survived contact with the enemy, and luck was a damn fickle bitch.

That this 'Royce' didn't have such a plan told Nate that either Royce was simply lucky to have survived this long, or they were really so deep in the shit that a back-up plan just wouldn't much matter.

Neither options were reassuring.

The band of warriors marched for a good twenty minutes before Royce brought them to the edge of a swamp, and signaled for them to stop.

"Oh man, just what the hell is growing in there?" Jessie asked as a shiver traveled down his spine. Having fought alien hunters and dogs with clawed feet and impossible spines in one day, his imagination was running wild over what monsters might be lurking in the swamp. It wasn't like they were happy places on earth, God only knew what they were like here! "probably hiding the Loch Ness monster in there!"

"Nothing much worse than your average tuna, actually," Royce reached down, and began pulling up several distinct plants that reminded Nate of tulip bulbs, "the things that brought us here want to be the ones to kill us. The biggest threats are other game, or them. Otherwise, this planet might actually be pleasant."

"Man, what is that thing?" Danny pinched his nose as he caught a whiff of the plants, "smells like shit!"

"Something to mask your scent," Royce began rubbing the plant over his pants and waist, "those things have an excellent sense of smell. They'll track us here and when they do, I'm hoping the overpowering stench will throw them off our trail. Rub it on your pants or waist, but not chest."

"That may work," Calvin said as he went to grab some of the plants, "we put it on our pants, the creatures think that we're using it to mask our scent, but it gets washed off when move through the swamp."

"Something like that," Royce replied.

"Have you done this before?" Agwang asked.

"With dogs," Royce replied, "didn't work perfectly, but it still gave me an edge."

"Like we don't smell bad enough," Big Rig grumbled.

A few minutes pasted, and everyone was covered in the foulest smelling plant they had ever come across. When added to their less than fresh bodies, it took a certain degree of self control for some of them not to vomit.

"Now that we have our deodorant, everyone into the pool," Royce deadpanned.

"Brazil all over again," Billy sighed as he and Jessie went about securing their weapons.

"There must be another way!" Zeya protested, deathly afraid of getting his only weapon damp. The idea of being helpless here was absolutely terrifying. Just the thought of being at someone else's mercy was almost more than the soldier could stand.

"This is the best way to throw them off our scent and off our trail," Isabelle hoisted her sniper rifle over her head and walked down into the water.

"It will be fine," Agwang placed a reassuring hand on Zeya's shoulder, and gave him a sympathetic smile. She didn't much care for the man as a person, but knew how important it was to keep up morale.

"Walk behind me, and move swiftly," Royce ordered.

The odd ball band of warriors marched through the swamp without complaint. Billy and Jessie were silently thankful that they took the precaution of water proofing their ammos bags, Nate eyed the swamp and Danny just preyed that if anything here did eat him, they'd had the decency to do it in one bite.

The band traveled the distance about ten blocks, before they came to a gently sloping rock formation. Calvin almost couldn't believe the change in geography, as the land went from lush swamp to desert like rock in the distance of twelve feet. He couldn't think of anything like it in all of nature.

"Lets take a minute," Royce ordered, as he slumped against a rock, "wait until we can dry off some, then we move."

There wasn't much argument. Slogging through the swamp had been exhausting, and it been hours since most of them had eaten anything.

"I'd kill for some new underwear," Big Rig grumbled.

"Any idea how well these things can smell?" Nate asked.

"Hard to say," Royce replied, "they're good trackers, but they never saw me when I had the cloaking devise on. Probably because they weren't looking for me, but I made sure not to rely on the thing completely. I stayed downwind, and they never knew to look for me. Now…"

Royce trailed off, but Nate still understood him perfectly. They were in virgin territory now, with Royce sticking his neck out for them.

It was a lot like crossing an old rope bridge. The only way to know if what you were doing was safe was to walk across it with your fingers crossed. If it was a good idea, you'd survive.

And if it was a bad idea, you were too far over the edge to go back, and all you could do was scream as you died.

"Alright," Isabelle was the one who spoke this time, "we need to get moving again. There's a storm coming soon."

"Just one moment," Calvin said, sounding just as exhausted now as when they stepped out of the swamp, "need to catch my breath."

"We don't have time for that old man," Royce said bluntly.

"Just…just a minute," Calvin pleaded.

"You heard the man," Big Rig snapped. He lumbered towards the aged teacher, "we gotta move old timer. Danny, grab his arrows. I'll fix this."

Danny plucked Calvin's quiver off his back in a fluid motion, and before he could even protest, Big Rig was looming over him like a mountain. Big Rig grabbed Calvin around the waist and lifted him over his shoulder with barely a grunt.

"Okay, lets go," Big Rig turned to glare at Royce, for daring the mercenary to suggest leaving Calvin behind.

"Stay close and watch your step," Royce ordered, "this area was a dumping ground for a while."

The group passed a column of stones, and a field littered with skeletons. Some wore remnants of army uniforms, aged and torn by exposure to weather, while others looked like movie props, devoid of all flesh and bleached pure white by the sun above.

From the back, Ayhum watched the paradox of Big Rig carrying Calvin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, unwilling to leave a man he'd met a day before,. Calvin's face was flush with embarrassment, while the biker crushed the bones and skulls of dead warriors underneath his feet.

"This planet has its own killing grounds," Billy remarked with disgust, "nice. Alien bastards…"

"Why didn't they take trophies?" Nate asked aloud

"Wasn't the aliens that killed them," Royce explained, "the former landlord of our…lets call it a safe house… valued his independence."

"He tried to kill you," Jessie guessed, "so you killed him, and took his pad."

"That's about the gist of it," Royce replied, "its the way of this world. Predator or prey. And I'm not prey."

They marched in silence for a half hour. In that time, Calvin felt recovered enough to walk, and insisted on walking under his own power, Zeya worried about his flame thrower and Danny was quickly shot down as he tried to strike up a conversation with Agwang, but nothing emerged out of nowhere to attack the group.

Nate knew that the longer they stayed out in the open, the greater the chance they had of that changing.

But as luck would have it, Royce led them to a cliff face, and motioned for them to stop.

"Everyone safety their weapons," Royce ordered, "we have to crawl uphill through a very tight space, and the last thing I need is getting shot in the ass."

"I'll go first," Isabelle said.

The Israeli sniper made her way into the cave, and clicked on a flashlight. They watched as she slowly climbed up a slow slope, and she went, they saw just a little clearer what the cave was really like.

It was like the mouth of a great beast. Less than two feet high with jagged edges everywhere, it led up towards a barely visible orange light. It was by no means a steep climb, but it certainly didn't look like a comfortable one.

Ironically, that was its own comfort. What was hard for them would likely be impossible for the aliens hunting them.

"Alright," Isabelle called out. Nate glanced up, and saw her shining a light too powerful to be that flashlight she was using earlier, "head towards me. If you need some light, let me know."

"Head into the light," Calvin chuckled half heartedly, "that's what got me into this mess in the first place."

The climb was slow, but far from uneventful. Zeya struggled to drag his flame thrower up, Billy and Jessie struggled to lug all their weapons up, while Big Rig struggled to squeeze into the small space. The only person that managed to make it up the slope with ease was Danny, the smallest member.

In all, it was a slow, uncomfortable crawl, that ended in a way none of them expected. The kidnapped warriors thought that they were crawling up the mouth of one cave, into another.

Instead, the slope opened out into a metal hallway, complete with orange lights and a slight electric hum. There were cobwebs and dust everywhere, but it was far more inviting than the wild outdoors they, until now, thought they would be trapped in.

"What is this place?" Billy glanced around, looking for anything that might reveal the room's purpose.

"We think this was once a mine," Isabelle said softly, then put a finger to her lips, and then pointed at the grated floor.

Billy, Ayhum, Calvin and Nate understood instantly. Metal could carry vibrations, like someone speaking, a lot farther than most people knew. On a planet like this, they had to take every precaution. The rest simply deferred to the Israeli.

Royce was the last man up, and he motioned for them to follow him.

"We should be clear," Royce said in a hushed tone. Nate observed that Royce didn't start talking until they were no longer walking on steel, "the man who was here before us managed to survive decades. In that time, he built up a fair collection of weapons. And we've been adding to the collection since we've been staying here."

Up ahead, Nate saw a cave entrance covered by one of the parachutes the hunters had used to drop them on the planet.

"And how many other soldiers did you watch die, before you took their weapons?"

The accusation slipped from Nate's lips before he even had time to consider the consequences. But he didn't regret a single word.

Isabelle looked as if she'd been slapped. Royce just chuckled darkly.

"Enough," Royce said, as they reached the parachute. He grabbed a fistful, and pulled it aside.

The cave was about three times the size of the average garage, and it was brimming with weapons of all kinds, and all different eras. C-4 rested next to Vietnam era claymores, hunting rifles lay next to Civil War era revolvers, an FN M249 SAW machine gun sat on the ground, looking brand new.

It was, without question, the largest cache of weapons anyone had ever seen outside of army vaults. There were enough weapons to level a city block, and enough guns to reduce any creature to nothing but a green stain.

"Enough to turn their little hunt…into a _God damn war_."

Next: War plans.


	7. Chapter 7

Predators Act 6

"Alright people, grab some gear, I'll bring some grub and then we need to get down to brass tacks," Royce said gruffly.

Big Rig let out a low whistle as he and his band of oddball band of soldiers and warriors stepped into the armory. The Biker seen his fair share of weapon stashes in his life, some belonging to collectors, others to fanatics (there was a thin line between the two as far as Big Rig was concerned) but he never would have expected to find something quite like this on this alien planet.

Of course, the Biker never expected to be on an actual alien planet, so it kind of balanced out.

M-16sw shared shelf space with old hunting rifles, uzis and even a rusted blunderbuss. A machete lay next to a claymore, along with a row of grenades that might have been mistaken for a historical piece, showing their development from World War 1 to now. A half dozen sniper rifles that could be no younger than thirty years, and countless handguns of every era, shape and size. It was, without a doubt, a scavenger's war chest.

"There are resistance cells that don't have this many weapons," Ayhum remarked.

"For all the good they did the original owners," Agwang observed with complete indifference.

"Half of them are rusted out, unusable," Royce said, "been here a while. But the ammunition should be good, and the usable ones are still plentiful. Grab some reloads, and then we conference."

As Nate grabbed three mags for his carbine, he couldn't help but notice how almost half the equipment was standard issue gear for the United States military. He remained stoically silent, trying not to think about the implications. But after a long and distinguished career as a spy, he found it very hard not to think.

While the others went about looking for ammunition, Calvin simply strolled through the armory, looking at the ancient weaponry, trying to place where it might have come from based on his amateur reading, while drinking in what amounted to a secret history of the universe that only a select few in the entirety of man were even privy to.

Looking at it all, he wondered if this was how Howard Carter felt when he discovered King Tut's tomb? Did these aliens battle pirates? Might they have kidnapped samurai from feudal Japan? The idea that the whole of human history seemed to cloak the sports of alien predators fascinated the elderly teacher, and for a moment, he felt honored, vindicated.

Important.

The fact that he was stranded on some bizarre alien planet didn't matter at the moment. All that mattered to him was that these aliens took countless warriors, men of will and blood…and now, he was a part of their ranks.

He was chosen.

But reality had a way reasserting itself, and Calvin remembered exactly what he'd done, and given up, to be here.

"Everyone good?" Royce asked

"Depends," Big Rig closed his revolver, "where is that grub, and what is it?"

"Edible. That's all you get here," Royce tossed a few of the MRE's he'd been saving around, one for every two people. They had corralled them into one of the larger and better lit caves that made up their hideaway. Before he began the briefing, he handed out a little of his and Isabelle's food reserves, and allowed them to eat.

In Royce's personal experience, it was easy to think and focus on a full stomach. As they said, an army marches on its stomach. But the moment, he felt like he was running a damn soup kitchen and not a tactical debriefing.

"You want to start us off?" Royce asked Isabelle. She just nodded. She knew more than Royce, but not much.

"The first recorded encounter with these things was in 1987. An elite, well seasoned team of mercenaries were sent in Guatemala to extract several hostages. The mission went wrong, and while they were in the process of pulling out when they were attacked," Isabelle began, "the team was one of the best in the world. Their paycheck was seven digits, and combined had over forty years experience."

"The mission went sideways, and on their way back for extraction, something found them. From a team of eight, only one survived. The rest were picked off one at a time."

"That was just one of them," Royce stated, "here, they hunt in packs of three."

"Wow, glad we got that math settled," Danny mumbled as he looked sideways.

"It gets better," Nate replied. He rubbed his hands together, staring at them, "it wasn't one squad that was killed in Guatemala, it was actually two. The first was butchered, skinned, and hung from the trees like slabs of meat, while the bodies of the second were taken and mutilated for trophies."

Royce and Isabelle exchanged a glance.

"How do you know that?"

"I'm friends with an old SEAL," Nate replied, "they talk. What else?

"There are two kinds of alien hunters out there," Royce said, "Big ones and small ones. Apparently, the big ones hunt the small ones when they're not hunting us."

"Apparently?" Calvin asked.

Isabelle and Royce exchanged a glance.

"We haven't actually seen them hunt one another," Royce confessed, "I freed one at their camp to cover an escape, and they went at it like junkyard dogs. But in all the time I've been here, I haven't seen another clash like it. Which isn't to say they don't happen, we haven't been here as long as the previous tenant."

"And how long was he here?" Big Rig asked, without thinking.

"Since 'Nam," Royce said softly.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, as the gathered warriors contemplated being trapped on this planet for years, decades.

"Could have lived without knowin' that," Big Rig confessed.

"Ignorance is death on the battlefield," Agwang snapped.

"She's right," Nate nodded, and then, eager to change the subject, said, "what can you tell us about their behavior? There was a civilian with the second team that was untouched, and it ignored the soldier's weapons after they were killed. That was how the second team knew the first wasn't killed by the locals. No weapons taken."

"That's not far off from the ones here," Royce answered, "they don't give a damn about the weapon after they've killed their prey, and are pretty sloppy when it comes to weapon discipline. I killed the last of three because they were stupid enough to leave a club and an axe unsecured, and half my arsenal is because they just ignore any weapon after their owner expires. They want blood and bone, not metal and blades."

"They also have a thing for duels. They'll snipe you without a second thought, but if you make it obvious you want a one on one fight, they'll oblige you."

"Stupid," Danny shook his head, "saved my life, but stupid."

"Any chance we can use that against them?" Zeya asked.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Royce answered, "a group of Russian mobsters tried it. Didn't work, and they regretted it for _days_."

"What are their weapons like?" asked Ayhum, "what else, besides what we saw in our encounter?"

"Like that wasn't bad enough," Big Rig muttered.

"Wrist blades and shoulder mounted lasers are their preferred weapons," Isabelle replied, "they use their cloaks to get in close, but they turn them off when they go for the kill. They also use wire nets to immobilize, but really?"

"They like it up close and personal best."

"So what's the play?" Billy asked.

"I say we just hole up here," Danny proposed, "one of these things killed two commando teams, and there's three of them out there and not nearly enough of us! What else can we do?"

There was a moment of silence.

Then a pebble bounced off Danny's head.

"The hell?"

"I'm going to toss a bigger one at your head," Calvin said conversationally. He then tossed another rock at Danny's head underhanded.

Danny, confusion still plastered on his face, caught the rock in one hand.

"Do you know how you caught that?"

"Yeah, with my hand!"

"No, no no," Calvin stood up, shaking his head, "back on earth, Hernan Cortes conquered an empire of millions with five hundred men. Vastly outnumbered, over a hundred to one. Yet in the end, he succeeded in an undertaking that even his own men thought was impossible. Do you know why?"

"Guns?" Jessie offered.

"Close," Calvin wagged a finger towards Jessie like a teacher giving a lecture, "but no. See, Cortes won because the Aztecs simply had no context to put him or his weapons in. They'd never seen rifles, never considered that there would be a whole different people across the ocean. They didn't see men in armor with guns, they saw gods with…sticks that shot lightning!

"Those commandos were well trained, and probably deadlier than us no doubte. But to those unfortunate soldiers, aliens were just science fiction. Creatures of Hollywood. Call it sheer disbelief, call it ignorance, call it whatever you like. I'd bet they struggled with the concept of being hunted by an alien as much as they struggled with the alien itself. But with just the right slice of information, you can counter that advantage. That's how you caught the rock."

"That's…an interesting theory," Nate had to admit.

"Too bad the only people who can confirm it are dead, on earth or both," Royce grunted.

"It really doesn't matter, does it?" asked Billy, "okay, we're being stalked by alien hunters. Even if we kill these suckers, we're still stuck here."

"Maybe, maybe not," Nate said, "we know what we're up against, we know what they want. So now we have to turn it against them. Stop playing their game, and make them play ours."

"Sounds awesome to me, but I think we oughta sleep on it," Big Rig suggested

"Sounds good," Nate said, "Isabelle and I will take first watch. You snore, don't expect much sleep."

Isabelle and Royce exchanged a quick glance.

"Sounds good to me," said the Sniper.

oooOOooo

"So what did you want to talk about?" Isabelle had her rifle propped up against the wall, but her sidearm is within reach. Nate rested against the opposite wall, his weapon resting on the floor.

"That transparent, huh?" Nate rested his head against the wall.

"I'm Israeli," said Isabelle, "I've probably met more spies in a year than you've even seen in a decade."

"I've been to Langley."

"I stand by my statement."

"How well do you know Royce?"

"Not well," Isabelle shrugged, "he's a son of a bitch, that's the beginning and end of it really."

"How much can we rely on him?"

"How much can we rely on you?" Isabelle countered, "we killed three of them. Your people only scratched one. To be honest, Royce must have felt uncharacteristically kind to take you in."

"Fair enough," Nate said, "I think we'll earn our keep."

Isabelle smiled, "Or you'll be dead."

"Or you will be," said Nate, "maybe your survival was just luck."

"Maybe," Isabelle leaned her head against the wall, "but that's always been the only difference between a good soldier, and a great one."

"You know, we do this, you'll have to be all in," Nate said, "no more living easy here. You are ready for that, right?"

"Nate, I've been ready to leave this the day I stepped foot in here," Isabelle said, "I'm willing to fight and die, I simply refuse to do so like an idiot."

oooOOooo

Calvin found himself staring at the cavern ceiling, while his mind drifted outwards. Despite the fact that he was in the company of professional killers and thugs, Calvin found himself too ashamed of his now revealed past to seek the company of his fellow survivors. He had hoped that this world would somehow be a new beginning, an escape from the past he thought billions of miles away.

"Why?"

Calvin raised an eyebrow at Agwang, who stood over him. To Calvin, she didn't look any older than the senior girls that he taught, and for a moment that fact weighed heavily on his heart. Of course there was so much wrong with their current situation, but at least it could be argued that most of the people here deserved to be on some level.

Calvin certainly knew it was true of himself.

But with Agwang, and the Hispanic boy Danny, Calvin had a hard time believing that their lives had allowed them the ability to make the choices that had damned them to this world.

"Why what, young lady?"

"Why did you bomb that clinic?"

Calvin closed his eyes and sighed, "I suppose I'm supposed to say that I'm morally opposed to abortion, that I think that it constitutes the murder of unborn children."

"I would agree," Agwang sat down lotus style, across from Calvin.

"Well, it would be a lie. 'Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever'," said Calvin, "I've always been looking for a new cause, a new mountain to climb. And all I ever had to show for it was a mundane thirty year career teaching high school. Then, one day, I'm in church, and…"

Calvin rubbed his sore, wet eyes, "The pastor spoke about the evils of abortion, how drastic steps had to be taken, and I convinced myself that he was speaking to me, that this was my mission…"

Calvin shook his head, "But I was wrong. It was all me, and just me, looking to break out of a life of obscurity. To give my life a meaningful exclamation point. If there is a God, I think he showed me the price of my hubris. Because even though I took every precaution, I waited until the entire clinic was supposed to be empty, it never occurred to me that there might be a janitor working overtime.

"I killed that man to fill a personal hole in my life. I was never on a holy mission, just a self righteous one."

"I don't believe that," Agwang stood up and placed a gentle hand on Calvin's shoulder, "I think you're a good man, who made a terrible mistake. And that God has chosen you to end these monsters, to redeem yourself."

Calvin smiled softly, "Thank you."

Agwang walked away. Years of serving as a 'wife' in the RUF had given her the ability to lie seamlessly, and hide her disgust with a smile that was never mistaken as anything but genuine.

Her life had been destroyed and defined by men on holy missions, and Agwang saw Calvin as little better. But simply because she did not believe in God did not mean that she did not believe in life.

As long as Calvin thought he had a cause, a reason to go on, he'd fight. And against these monsters, they would need every last warrior.

oooOOooo

Zeya found his own isolated section to rest in, took off his flame thrower and then laid down, using the heavily metal backpack as a make-shift pillow. It was as comfortable as one might expect.

Alone, his thoughts drifted to his chances of survival. The monsters that were hunting them were more powerful than any one warrior had any right to be. And in the jungle like this, Zeya suspected that they'd be a match for his nation's entire army, to say nothing of this loose, ad-hoc combination of soldiers and warriors.

In Zeya's opinion, the others were complete idiots. Fighting wasn't an option and neither was surrender, apparently.

So Zeya, a man using to following brutal orders, a man who never had a thought in his own head that someone else hadn't put there, tried to think what options then were left that might allow him to survive.

oooOOooo

_Later_

"We need to draw them out, that should go without saying."

Royce, Billy, Isabelle, Ayhum and Nate were all gathered in a small corridor, away from the others. Almost everyone agreed that they needed to fight back, but almost no one could agree on how. So it was decided that the smartest would get together with those who knew the terrain best, and they'd go from there.

No one liked putting their lives in the hands of strangers, but everyone recognized that combat strategy and democracy mixed like oil and fire. Combine them, and everyone gets burned.

"Not hard," Royce said, "these things catch our scent, and it's like blood in the water for them."

"We need a way to limit their ability to approach," Ayhum said, "killing them will be hard enough with their cloaks, but if they take to the trees, we'll need more snipers than we have."

"Agreed," said Isabelle, "these things prefer the trees, and their weapons favor distance tactics. They want trophies, but they want the kill more."

"How quick are these things?" asked Nate.

Royce shrugged, "Hard to say. I've only ever seen two of them covering open ground, but they were pretty damn swift."

"So we break cover, they'll be on our ass pretty quick," surmised Billy.

"Depends where we break cover," Royce said, "there's a small swamp about three clicks from here. Great for hiding out scent with all the methane, shallow water to make it difficult for them to approach with their cloaks. Most of the trees are like red woods, it'd support them but not provide a lot of cover."

"So you have a battle ground already chosen," said Ayhum.

"Depends," replied Royce, "it's the best of a lot of bad choices. We fight there, and we'll never make it back here. It'd be child's play to track us."

Billy rubbed his chin, "Plus, there's the obvious question of what happens if they don't take the cheese. If they decide to just wait us out, well, we won't die pretty."

"We have to frame it right," Nate said, "the best traps make the prey curious, wonder what happened. You don't need to bait the water with blood when you already have a body."

Isabelle thought about the metaphor for a second, and then her face when pale, "You cannot be serious."

"Of course not," said Nate, "because fighting sociopathic alien hunters is clearly a joking matter."

oooOOooo

"_First, we need an inventory of all the working explosives we have. We're going to need them."_

"Thirty four grenades of varying age, six claymores, eleven bricks of C4 plus some assorted, flammable liquids," Jesse reported.

"Good, good," said Nate, "how many detonators for the C4?"

"None," Jesse replied, "I mean we got 'em, but they're all too old or rusted. Nothing I'd trust to be mission critical."

"Ayhum has some detonators," replied Nate, "okay, start wrapping up the ammo clips. Royce is going to start moving them into place tonight."

oooOOooo

"_Second, we need to see if we can find any removable metal panels from around here. And some tape too, if you have it."_

Danny took his trench knife, and wedged it into a thin, metal seam in the wall. It took some doing, but he was able to lodge it in the panel and then stepped aside.

"So the previous owner had been here for some thirty years an' all, and in all that time there was never some poor bastard with a damn screw driver or crowbar?"

"Ah, stop being such a little girl, your knife will be fine," Big Rig rolled his eyes, and grabbed the knife by the handle. The Giant Bike pulled the knife, and began to use it to lever the panel off the wall. They'd already removed the screws that had once held it firmly in place, but countless years in one place had given the panel the incredible power of inertia.

Big Rig grunted, and pulled with every ounce of strength his well toned muscles gave him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the panel popped out of place like a wet bar of soap.

"Whoa!" Danny scrambled to catch it, mindful of how Royce had warned them about the Hunter's incredible hearing.

"Damn, that was a stubborn bitch," Big Rig wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Well, only a dozen more to go."

oooOOooo

"_Lastly, we need to eat every last ounce of food we can stomach, and as much sleep as we can. Because when this goes down, it promises to be a long day, win or lose." _

To his credit, Royce was anything but stingy when it came to his rations when the time came. There were half melted candy bars, granola bars, some M. and fruit from whatever the hell those trees were.

They ate in silence, aware of what tomorrow would bring.

Nate ate slowly, like his instructors had drilled.

Danny ate quickly, hoping to cure his nerves.

Calvin savored every bite, fully accepting that tomorrow would likely be his last day alive.

Royce and Isabelle ate like it was any other day.

oooOOooo

Royce was tasked with prepping the battle field by himself. Nate didn't much care for that, preferring to do his own prep work, but he realized it was the only real choice they had. Between Royce's experience with the planet and his stolen cloaking field, he was the only one who could possibly do it.

Which left Nate with the uncomfortable job of explaining their battle plan to everyone.

"So the plan is to basically ring the dinner bell for these alien bastards," said Big Rig.

"Actually, that's not true," said Calvin, "there's no indication that they consume their prey. They simply want our bodies for trophies, notably our skulls."

"Gee, that's so much better," Big Rig remarked.

"It's our only choice. These things may not be clever, but they are powerful, ruthless, and this is their game, and their world," Nate said, "we have to change that. Guerrilla warfare won't be possible, not with these things. And a war of attrition would still favor them. This is us taking a chess board and playing checkers. We need to make this our game, and our rules if we want to survive."

oooOOooo

Isabelle didn't grunt as she scaled the giant tree, rifle slung over her one shoulder, and a pack of clips slung over the other. She was no stranger to the jungle, and the hundred foot drop below her didn't register as anything other than a casual fact.

Once she reached the top, Isabelle unfurled the camo-tarp Royce had left earlier, and began setting up. They had a decent idea where the aliens would be coming from, and she checked her lines of sight. In this conflict, speed would be key, so she set about memorizing as much of the land as she could.

She studied possible approaches, contemplated retreats and examined everything she could see with a calm demeanor, aware of the fact that her life might depend on the smallest detail.

oooOOooo

"Don't see why I have to get shoved into this thing," Danny muttered. He and Big Rig were on a small dry island, Big Rig leaning flat against the ground while Danny was scrunched under a log.

"Least you ain't got this plate on ya," Big Rig muttered. Shoved under his shirt was a metal panel that they'd pried off one of te walls, and in between that and his skin were a bundle of twigs.

The metal panels were Nate's attempt to cover the team's heartbeat. Metal absorbed vibrations, but the hope and theory was that with some padding in between the panels and the chest, the vibrations would be muffled enough to be undetectable at a distance.

It was patchwork guesswork at best, but Royce thought it was better than nothing.

"Remember the plan, right?"

"It ain't rocket surgery," replied Big Rig.

oooOOooo

Nate was hunkered down, covered in leaves and dirt. His heart was steady, despite what lay ahead. As far as Nate's body was concerned, facing down alien hunters on an impossible world wasn't even note worthy.

But his mind was sharp, and it couldn't help but pick apart each and every flaw of his plan. The known unknowns (how sharp were the senses of the aliens? How fast would they approach?), the unknown unknowns (did they limit themselves to a pack of three, or were only three visible at any time), plus everything in between.

Nate wondered if this was what David felt like in the moments leading up to his historic fight.

He certainly hoped it was.

The Spy heard a distinct animal call, and sent those thought from his mind. Royce was signaling that everyone was in place, and the sooner the plan was executed, the better.

Nate popped in a pair of earplugs, and then squeezed the detonator.

The jungle shook, and the air screamed as a combined eighty pound of explosive detonated all around their chosen battlefield.

Nate peaked out from his hiding spot, and saw dozens of small brush fires. None of them near his team, Royce saw to that.

Nate swallowed hard, but controlled his breathing. If things went according to plan, the Hunters would be heading their way now. They'd be on guard, and when they arrived hopefully they'd see the remains of a botched ambush and investigate.

Hopefully.

And when that happened, well, all bets were off. Orders were to engage at first sight. It wasn't the most sophisticated plan, but it was about the only plan that would survive contact with the enemy.

Five minutes past, with no noise beyond the burning brush piles.

Nate remained calm

Ten minutes past, just like the first five.

Royce, the only man standing thanks to his cloak, fought the urge to move.

Fifteen minutes in, was when it got ugly.

"_Into the breach," _Calvin's words carried across the swamp, as if he was on a loudspeaker_._

Nate recognized the words as a flawless digital playback, and was about to pick apart the psychological tactic at work when a burst of plasma landed only a foot away from him,

"_Good trap_," this time it was Zeya.

"Jessie, move!"

The two Brothers leapt from their hiding place only second before a spear shot down from the trees. It landed perfectly in the Brother's bundle of spare strips, and began beeping. The pair just barely made it to the other side of the tree before their spare clips went up in a ball of fire.

"_You guys aren't that smooth_," said the voice of the deceased Megumi.

Zeya screamed and pulled the trigger on his flame thrower. While he released a primal battle cry, he failed to notice the shimmer over his shoulder.

There was a metallic hiss, Zeya felt as if something had bumped into him, and his flamethrower died within seconds.

"Oh no," Zeya looked down, and saw that the fuel cable had been neatly sliced.

"_They've had eyes on us a while now_." This time, it was Nate's voice that boomed through the swamps.

"Fuckers are toying with us!" Royce hissed. He looked down the sights of his AA12, hunting for a target. Several months in this jungle had taught him well, but when Royce found a target, his cloak began to arc with electricity, and the mercenary stood revealed to the world.

Royce paused despite himself, and before he could recover, bolts of plasma reigned down from the sky, and he dove for cover.

"**This is**…" _Big Rig._

Ayhum screamed as a lance impaled him through the thigh.

"**Not**…" _Megumi_

Agwang dove for cover seconds before a wire net came rocketing towards her position.

"**A**…" _Ayhum_

Isabelle tucked herself into a ball as bolts of plasma slammed the tree that she had made into her sniper's perch.

"**War**…." _Royce_

Big Rig mustered his courage and stood up, Desert Eagle in one hand, sweeping the swamp for a target. But in the chaos, he didn't hear the twig snap behind him. He just heard a growl and when he spun around, was met with a casual backhand.

"**This**…"_Calvin_

Calvin sighed in defeat as the swamp fell into chaos all round them.

"**Is**…"_Danny_

This time, it was Nate's voice that fell over the swamp.

"**Our game**…"

Next issue: Their game.


End file.
